


The Law of Retaliation

by mznaughty01



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Murder, Organized Crime, Power Imbalance, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5712370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mznaughty01/pseuds/mznaughty01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Infiltrate Defenestrates, Chicago's most notorious criminal organization. Gain the trust of the right people, become invaluable, move up. Then destroy the group from the inside out by chopping off the head.</p><p>This was Jensen's mission, one that he wouldn't fail. Jared Padalecki had executed Jensen's father and only Jared suffering a similar fate, at Jensen's hands no less, would suffice as payment for the sin.</p><p>The Law of Retaliation, after all, demanded a fracture for a fracture, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth... <i>a life for a life</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Reversebang and inspired by marietwist's gorgeous artwork, _[the flaw of charming men](http://bitchjerks.co.vu/post/137265464691/my-entry-for-the-spnj2-reversebang-challenge-the/)_! Mafia AU? No way I could stay away. Go leave her lots of love (you can find her [here](http://bitchjerks.co.vu/) on Tumblr).
> 
> Many thanks to the mods for running this bang each year!
> 
>  

_Even if you’re about to shit your pants, you_ never _let ‘em see you sweat_.

Jensen stood rigid at attention, feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped together behind his back. His father’s words, spoken to him for the first time so long ago, when Jensen was just a boy of no older than seven or eight, were at the front of his mind.

They held Jensen still. He wasn’t prone much to fidgeting to begin with, but those words were currently making sure that he didn’t move one damn inch.

Never show fear. The first lesson his father had given him. The one he’d stressed over and over was the most important. To hold in regard above all else. Now that he was face-to-face with Mark Pelligrino, Jensen appreciated his father’s efforts. In a way that he hadn’t been able to before. Was thankful for them and for his father’s foresight. 

Cool blue eyes regarded Jensen from below brows so blond they were almost transparent. Took Jensen in from head to toe. Jensen was sure they hadn’t missed a thing about him, yet they also gave nothing away. It was discomforting, not knowing if he’d passed muster or had been found wanting.

Without a doubt, Jensen was standing in front of a psychopath. One who’d lived a carefully planned life unhampered by guilt or remorse to any degree. Jensen wondered how many hits Mark had ordered. How many he’d personally handled himself. The latter, he suspected, was bound to be far greater than the former.

“I can see him in you,” Mark said, his first time speaking in the five minutes or so since Jensen had entered his office. “Same height, same eyes. Wow, just wow, I really can’t believe it.” His leather chair creaked under his weight as he sat back. “My big brother’s precious son.”

The silence after that last statement stretched on. And on. And on. It was ominous. Jensen remained unmoving.

A huge smile spread across Mark’s face as he stood and rounded his desk. “C’mere and give your uncle a hug, boy.”

Even as he was being pulled into a one-armed, back slapping embrace, it didn’t escape Jensen’s notice that Mark’s smile didn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

This may have been Jensen’s first time meeting his uncle, but he’d been well prepped for this day. Willie Pelligrino had been astute, a man of no nonsense. He hadn’t wanted Jensen to be involved in the life, to be the crown prince of the Pelligrino Crime Family, and had sent Jensen and his mother away from Chicago before Jensen had even been born. Hid them in Houston, where Jensen had lived a good life, been raised a solid middle class.

He’d also known that the time would come when Jensen would be sussed out. And had been sure to prepare Jensen for that day, in secret and without the knowledge or permission of Jensen’s mother. He’d introduced Jensen to what being a Pelligrino entailed, but had done it his way and with only his own values to color Jensen’s experience. Bottom line, he’d made sure that Jensen was ready for all eventualities, whether Willie was dead or alive on the day that family finally decided to come calling.

As it was, Willie was dead. But long before this sham of a family reunion currently taking place, he’d ensured that Jensen had known all about Mark. How best to deal with him.

Mark let go of Jensen and took a couple steps back. He hiked up his pants, then perched on the edge of his desk. The desk was made of solid glass, with four embossed legs that were thick at the top and tapered where they met the floor. Very artistic. Like the whole rest of Mark’s home office.

Everything was just so... light. And airy. From the desk to the floral watercolors mounted on all four walls to the sheer curtains that billowed in every few moments from the late spring breeze blowing through the cracked opened windows.

It would be entirely too easy to underestimate someone like Mark in an environment like this. One carefully crafted to instill a false sense of trust. Not the natural habitat for the head of one of Chicago’s most notorious crime families, a position Mark had inherited on Willie’s death.

“Drink?” Mark picked up a decanter of amber liquid from its spot on the corner of his desk, where it had been sitting next to a set of tumblers.

With a shake of his head, Jensen declined.

Finger hooked over the rim of one of the glasses, Mark pulled it towards himself. Two fingers worth was poured, then he picked the glass up. Held it tilted towards his body as he stared down at the contents.

“Whiskey,” he said, looking up at Jensen. “Your father’s poison of choice.” A sip. “Did you know that, Jensen? About your father?”

Jensen wasn’t meant to answer, so he didn’t provide affirmation. This was Mark’s lead-in as to why he’d sought Jensen out. Brought Jensen up from Texas to Illinois, under heavy security and with measures that ensured Jensen wouldn’t be seen by anyone on the way.

Nighttime travel. SUV with blacked out windows. Jensen not allowed to stray from the vehicle he’d been hustled into when Mark’s man had retrieved him right out of his bed back home. Piss breaks on the sides of roads devoid of any observers that weren’t grazing cattle or turkey vultures circling the carcasses of their next meals.

“Well, actually, this whiskey here probably would’ve been too rich for your old man.” Mark held out the tumbler mid-air for a brief moment, the liquid inside taking on a yellowish cast once the rays of light hit it. “This right here? Finest stuff on the market. Yamazaki. Aged eighteen years. Single malt. Your father never would’ve appreciated it. The man did like his rotgut.”

One swallow and Mark downed the rest of his drink. He slammed the emptied tumbler on the desk, the violent meeting of glass on glass producing an excruciating screech. “Why do you think I had you brought here, Jensen?”

“You found out who was responsible for my father’s murder.” That was Jensen’s best guess. Willie had been gone for going on half a year now. Maybe not enough time for apathetic law enforcement to finger the meticulous killer, but more than enough for someone of Mark’s ilk.

A faraway, unreadable look settled on Mark’s face as his eyes lost focus. Caught up in some memory Jensen wasn’t privy to. “Do you know the importance of family? All those years your father kept you away from your own, did he at least explain the importance to you?”

He had, but not in a way that would meet with Mark’s approval. Jensen’s loyalties ran deep. Were to his mother and younger half-brother and half-sister who remained back home safe in Texas. His loyalties were to the Ackles side of his family, not the Pelligrino side. The only Pelligrino that had garnered the same level of dedication from Jensen was six feet under, offed by the bullet that had implanted itself deep within his skull.

But Mark didn’t need to know all that. So Jensen just nodded.

“Good.” Mark shoved away from his desk and walked a few feet away, to stand in front of the nearest window. “How’d you hear about Willie’s death anyway?”

“I keep up with the news.”

The spread curtains fluttered in around Mark. “That’s a fucked up way to learn about your father dying. You should’ve been here with me, son. Not alone.”

Being with the only people who counted when he’d learned of his father’s death didn’t exactly equate to being alone. They’d comforted Jensen. Had been everything he’d needed during the time of his grief. Willie hadn’t been his mother’s favorite person, a constant reminder to her of days gone by and the imprudent choices of her youth before she’d met Jack Ackles, the man she’d married while still pregnant with Jensen, who had accepted Jensen as his own, no questions asked.

But she’d loved Willie once. To some extent, had loved him always.

To Jenna and Jory, Willie had been the fun “uncle”, who’d fulfilled a faux father sort of role for them after cancer had eaten Jack alive. In their own ways, Willie’s death had hit them hard. They’d each grieved his passing, Jensen just the most.

“Your father...” Without warning, Mark punched the wall next to the window. “ _Your father_ was always so damn secretive. To the point that his own son couldn’t attend his funeral because he didn’t _have_ a son far as anyone knew. Didn’t have any kids at all.” Mark’s shoulders shook with laughter. The sound was hollow. “I probably would’ve had you killed if you had shown up claiming to be family.”

“I wish that I had been there,” was the response Jensen gave, the response he knew was expected. _Good thing I didn’t come, wasn’t even tempted to_ , was what he thought.

“Me and your father, do you know where we both learned the meaning of family? On our own father’s knees, side-by-side, that’s where! And yet I still had to spend hours, days, weeks, tracking you down, my own nephew, my _only_ nephew. Spend hours deciphering the true meaning behind my brother’s multiple trips to Texas each year, when I _should’ve known about you all along_.” 

A load of shit. Bull to be exact. Jensen was certain that Mark had always known exactly where to find him. Had probably known since Jensen was a teen. If not longer. If not since the time Willie had whisked away his pregnant lover. Willie had flat out said so himself.

Slowly, Mark turned until he faced Jensen once again. His expression was grim. “Did it never occur to you to come find me instead?” 

This was the moment of truth. When his uncle decided if Jensen was worthy. Failing this moment was _not_ an option.

Because, if this encounter was related to Willie’s death in any shape or form, then it was also about so much more than whether or not Jensen wanted to be a Pelligrino.

“Probably would’ve killed me, remember?” Jensen raised his head a notch, held his uncle’s gaze. Fearless. A touch defiant. “And however you like to say it—pushing up daisies, taking dirt naps, slow singing and flower bringing—I have no personal interest in doing any of it, so I found it in my best interest to stay away and let you come to me.”

“Smart move, kid. I can’t even lie.” This time, the laugh Mark let out was one of genuine mirth. But he quickly sobered. “Family always comes first, Jensen. And _this_ family avenges the death of their own.”

The single step Jensen took forward was reflexive. His first involuntary move since this meeting had begun. “Then you do know who killed my father.”

“Defenestrates.”

Willie had mentioned them before, several times. Defenestrates was Chicago’s most notorious criminal organization, an unofficial offshoot of longtime allies of the Pelligrinos, the Morgan Crime Family. They operated with complete independence of their predecessor, however, with Morgan’s own nephew, who’d been ousted from the family for unknown reasons, at their head. The name had been gifted to them when they’d first shown up on the scene five years ago by the local media after a member had launched a man to his death through a glass window.

They’d apparently liked the name, so it had stuck.

“Padalecki.”

“Yes, son, Padalecki. People talk and I listen. Word is some deal between them went sour, a deal that I didn’t even know about. Your father and his _goddam secrets_.” Mark shook his head. “But, still, regardless, this was something that could’ve been— _should’ve been_ —rectified with no blood drawn. That is, if Padalecki’s goal to begin with hadn’t been to take your father out. So, again, I ask, why do you think I had you brought here, Jensen?”

Unlike the Pelligrinos, and most other crime families, the Defenestrates weren’t based on blood. They operated under a _strongest rise to the top_ strategy and _loyalty_. Meaning that it was possible for Jensen, an unknown entity, “To infiltrate them.”

Confirmation was given in the form of a nod. “Infiltrate them. And take them down from the inside out by chopping off the head.”

Jensen’s purpose revealed. Definitely within his power to accomplish. Willie had made sure of it.


	2. Chapter 2

_Know thine enemy._

Two grand, paid in cash so as to be untraceable, was all the help Mark gave Jensen before sending him out to complete his task. He’d also arranged a ride for Jensen, under the guise of night again, to a major intersection where Jensen was dropped off. But he hadn’t given Jensen anything else. No information on where to find Padalecki, who Padalecki’s contacts were, _nothing_.

While not easy, Jensen had to admit that this approach was for the best. It was going to force him into doing all of his own research and relying on his own means as he concocted a plan for how to get inside the Defenestrates and, eventually, get close to Padalecki. Mark’s complete lack of influence would be a huge aid as it meant that Jensen couldn’t accidentally reveal something along the way that he wasn’t supposed to know and be sniffed out as an imposter. Especially since discovery could mean a death sentence.

No ties at all between Mark and Jensen would have been preferable, however the money had been a necessity. Back home, Jensen hadn’t been rich, he’d just been an average guy eking out an average existence as an auto mechanic (the thing where his father was a crime boss was something that no one knew about outside of Jensen and his mother, with Mark being the sole exception). The money was needed so that Jensen could fly to Texas to tie up loose ends with his family and job, to break his lease and to arrange for the shipping of his furnishings and other personal effects. The rest was used to fill up his gas tank on the drive back to Chicago and to secure his new place as well as a hotel room for the week long interim it would take to get his apartment move-in ready.

And that hotel room was where Jensen was currently using his phone to scour the internet for all mentions of Padalecki. Same one he’d had for the past year as keeping connections to his old life, being someone with a trackable history, rather than a ghost appeared out of thin air, was the most believable way to pull off his ruse. Padalecki wasn’t stupid. He would have Jensen investigated and Jensen knew it.

Jensen had spent two whole days looking up information. He’d found the address for the water treatment company Padalecki used as his legitimate front, Padaqua. Crimes he was only vaguely suspected of. Crimes he was known to be behind, or to have personally committed, that lacked supporting evidence to win a conviction. The identity of one of his higher ups, a black guy named Aldis Hodge. Strip clubs he owned. Night clubs he co-owned. Restaurants he visited on a regular basis.

Getting a job at the hamburger joint Padalecki had been photo’d at several times seemed like the least obvious manner of putting himself into Padalecki’s general vicinity. Playing the role of a down on his luck server? One interested in seedier options of making a come up? Seemed viable.

But then Jensen located a post on a message board about Chicago nightlife. The board was defunct for the most part. Had been for a few years. Except this one entry, posted within the last few months.

 _OMFG so you guys won’t believe who I saw last night, I mean, I’m still in fucking shock right now because like I could’ve lost my life or something. IDEK. But anyway I was out and on my way to meet up with my friends, but had to really, really use the bathroom halfway there. So I stopped at this bar that looked like it was shut down, but like I said I really, really had to go because I had already been drinking while at my bf’s house and fucking tequila goes right through me, man, so I parked my car outside and went in anyway like the boss bitch I am and there, right there, was_ Jared Padalecki _, I swear to God, guys, and so I..._

A quick scan through the rest of the entry revealed the name of the bar to be Dani’s. Jensen glanced at the uppermost right corner of his phone’s screen. Almost eleven. Perfect time for a drink.

*

How the creator of that entry had steeled their nerves enough to enter Dani’s, Jensen didn’t know. Despite the description of them being a boss bitch, he had his doubts. Ditzy bitch seemed more apt given all the rambling.

And the fact that they’d chosen Dani’s, of all places, to stop for a piss break.

Whoever that person was, one thing was for certain. They had a set of brass cojones in their possession.

Dani’s did look like it was closed. Situated as it was in the middle of a pretty rundown neighborhood, and as rundown as the neighborhood itself, Jensen was positive Dani’s was scary during the day. At night, it bordered on terrifying in the vein of a person was likely to be robbed and gutted if they dared to stumble out of there drunk.

It was old. Decrepit. All the windows were covered over with ripped up paper that may have been posters at one time or another. Or maybe just trash to begin with and trash now. Graffiti, tags from various gangs and wanna be artists, decorated every other available spot on the building’s front. The sides, too, from what Jensen was able to see.

The group of four or five teenage boys huddled together on the corner just down the street didn’t help to make Dani’s any more approachable. They eyed Jensen with interest when he exited his car and he stopped. Stared right back at them. Until they started mumbling and moving around in agitation, before eventually disappearing around a corner and out of sight.

“Pussies,” Jensen huffed out under his breath.

Not entirely positive the place wouldn’t be locked up tighter than a straight dude’s ass in jail, Jensen pocketed his keys, then strode up to Dani’s entrance. A firm tug opened the door right up.

It was entirely empty inside, other than the bartender. She was gorgeous, with reddish brown hair pulled up on the top of her head in a messy bun. Seated on a high stool behind the bar, she had her combat booted feet kicked up on the counter. Her attention had been absorbed by the nauseating news report about the suspected abduction of a very young girl named Riley Thomas playing on the flat screen mounted cattycorner in the far corner of the room. As Jensen stepped over the threshold, she fixated on him instead with obvious interest.

“Haven’t seen you before,” she said, voice high, but with a husky quality to it. “You new?”

“New to what?”

“Great. Not new. You’re lost.”

“And you, I’m guessing, are Dani.” There was a billiard table on one side of the room and several mismatched tables and chairs on the other. Jensen sat at the bar, purposely right across from the bartender.

“One drink.” She used a remote to flick the tv off, then swung her feet down off the bar and stood up. As she stretched, a glimpse of toned belly was revealed by the gap between where her shirt ended and her jeans began. “My treat, because I’m bored and don’t mind the entertainment. Has to be better than watching the news. Shit’s depressing.”

“Craft?”

“While I do stock top shelf liquor—” here, she paused to look around meaningfully, before focusing on Jensen again with raised eyebrows “—with the beer you’ll have to aim with a little less pretentiousness.”

“Whatever you got, then.”

“Danneel,” the bartender formally introduced herself, popping the top off a sweating bottle. “Dani, for short.”

“Jensen,” Jensen replied. “So...” He took a swig after the Bud Light was slid across to him, then used its neck to indicate the room at large. “Always so busy around here?”

“I have my benefactors.”

And that was all the confirmation Jensen needed. He was willing to bet big money this place was Padalecki’s regular watering hole. A reminder to him of where he had come from, or a place comfortable to him in its familiarity, since he’d grown up not too far from here. Still, to this day, his business was only located about ten to fifteen minutes away.

With its complete lack of ostentatiousness, Dani’s definitely provided some protection, too. It wasn’t a place enemies would probably think to come looking.

After draining his beer, Jensen said, “They must tip you pretty damn good to keep you up and running.”

“You could say that.” Danneel took his empty as soon as he was done and disposed of it. “Nice meeting you.” She rapped her knuckles on the bar in clear dismissal. “But you have to go now.”

So Jensen did. Even left without an argument. At the door, it was on the tip of his tongue to call out, _See you later, Dani._

But she beat him with a, “And, Jensen? Don’t come back.”

For a couple days, Jensen heeded Danneel’s advice. The night of the third day found him once again strolling through the door of Dani’s after what was fast becoming a routine of staring down the group of teenagers outside. The bar was just as empty as his first visit, the only real differences being the tv was off this time as Danneel occupied herself instead by playing a solitary game of pool.

“You don’t listen very well, do you,” she said, sinking a solid into the center pocket.

“I was bored and your place is close to the hotel where I’m staying.”

“Hotel?”

“Just moved here.”

Solid in the left corner pocket. “Where from?”

“Texas. Houston to be exact.”

“Have you always made such unfortunate life decisions?”

“Unfortunate, huh.” Jensen chuckled. “Why’s that?”

“Winter, for one. Right now, the snow’s all melted for the most part, but winter’s always a bitch up here. If the snow doesn’t get to you, then the frigid temps certainly will.” She pushed up from her lean over the table and cocked a hip against it. Her hair hung in a thick braid over her left shoulder. “For another, crime.”

“Granted, winter in Houston can’t compare to winter up here, but we do have our fair share of criminal activity. Also, we have hurricanes.” Jensen freed a cue from the wall mount next to the pool table. “Best two out of three?”

“Rack ‘em up.”

They played their three games, Jensen just barely claiming the title of victor. He put both sticks away afterwards, while Danneel headed to the bar to get them some beers. Sitting at one of the tables, they made small talk for a couple hours about any-and-everything (Danneel’s son and his adventures with his snot faced elementary aged classmates, how the kids outside didn’t mess with Danneel because her brother had been one before his death in a car accident a year ago, how much Jensen already missed his mother and siblings, other shit), but nothing of true importance. And certainly nothing related to Jensen’s mission. Jensen didn’t even try to broach the subject of Padalecki. Too early still.

When he left, this time it was to Danneel saying, “Since I have the suspicion that you’ll be back even if I tell you to stay away again, all I’ll say is don’t come by Friday. Friday’s no good.”

Padalecki would unquestionably be there that night. But, knowing that if he played his cards right, Danneel was likely to be not only a wealth of information regarding Padalecki, but also hopefully Jensen’s way in, Jensen agreed with a tilt of his head. Arousing her suspicion just wouldn’t do. It would be detrimental to his goal.

*

Saturday was the day Jensen moved into his new residence. By that night, he was more than ready for some downtime at Dani’s. Even if the visit was, ultimately, business for him, a cold one was going to do him good after spending the day sweating while unpacking boxes and putting everything away. Help soothe the restlessness that had tormented him all day derived from the knowledge that he was twenty-four hours past what could’ve been a face-to-face meeting with Padalecki.

His first clue that something was off was his interaction with the group outside. As normal, he stared, they moved.

Except one guy, who was apart from the rest, almost out of sight. He continued to stand there, sweatshirt hood pulled up over his head, after all the others had gone. There was nothing else conspicuous about him, but his failure to fall in with the herd made him very noticeable. 

Just in case, Jensen let one hand creep inside his flannel overshirt to grip the handle of the gun hidden in the waistband of his jeans. He kept his hand there even after stepping inside the bar. Because he wasn’t about to remove it, especially not after receiving his second clue: Danneel’s eyes widening in a way that was almost comical in response to his entrance.

“You can’t be here,” she said.

“You said don’t come by Friday,” Jensen protested in response. “It’s Saturday.”

“I know what I said, but—” The rest of what she was about to say was stopped by the door to the bar opening again. Instead, she hissed, “Sit down, be still and don’t say a _word_.”

In came two guys, one blond haired with squinty eyes, the other a little shorter and stocky with brown hair that reached his shoulders. On seeing Long Hair’s soul patch, Jensen muttered, “Douche bag.”

The look Danneel gave him was a clear, _Do what I said. Now._ Jensen did, his hand falling off his weapon in the process, but not because of Danneel. 

It was because of the next guy to enter.

Well-dressed. Taller than Jensen by a couple inches. With hair shorter than his friend’s, but still longer than most men wore at ear curling nape length. A couple days’ worth of stubble covered the lower half of his face. Even so, his deep dimples were visible as he gave a tight, brief smile in response to whatever the guy half a step behind him, Aldis, had just said. His eyes were a striking hazel.

Jensen had known, had prepared himself to the best of his ability, to the inevitable reaction he would have from being in the same room with Padalecki. But, never in a million years, had he thought that reaction would be _lust_.

He’d seen pictures of Padalecki online. Shots taken by the media as Padalecki had entered and exited courts to answer charges against him that never stuck. Close ups uploaded from the camera phones of misguided fans who’d found themselves at the same club or restaurant as their favorite criminal celebrity and had been daring enough to snap stealthy photos of him from afar, but never to ask him for one to his face. None of them, _none of the pictures_ , paid proper justice to the man himself.

 _Jensen, you’re my boy and I love you more than life itself, love you just the way you are. But you can’t, a cocksucker is something that you_ can’t _afford to be. Our family will take you out quick, son, if they ever found out. Without a second thought, they’d do it._

That conversation had shaken a thirteen year old Jensen to his very core. Willie had shown up unannounced for a visit, same as always, and Jensen’s mom had told him to go on up to Jensen’s room. There, he’d discovered Jensen in bed under another boy trading shy kisses rather than in the midst of the studying they were supposed to be doing.

Since that day, Jensen had repressed his sexuality. Repressed that shit so hard, he’d become hetero. Except for the occasional, meaningless fuck he’d bent over for when wasted out of his fucking skull, that was.

It wasn’t just in the Pelligrino family that men liking dick wasn’t accepted. That was a universally accepted truth in the whole underworld.

Padalecki’s eyes latched onto Jensen’s, holding something like surprise at Jensen’s presence for a moment, before all expression was wiped away. Air caught in Jensen’s throat as he stared right back at Padalecki.

At this man who was his father’s killer. Who would kill Jensen, too, if he discovered the truth of Jensen’s parentage and why Jensen was there at Dani’s.

The truth of Jensen’s desires.

Jensen gave a quick bob of the head in greeting to Padalecki. Then, very deliberately, turned away. Gave Padalecki his back as he faced Danneel.

Squinty came right up to the bar. Stopped next to Jensen. “Cousin’o’Mine, who’s your friend?”

“Here for me.” Danneel’s reply was given in the most saccharine tone.

“Dating now, are we? Since when?”

“A better question is since when do I have to run every detail of my personal life by you?”

“I don’t know, maybe since you decided to fuck one of my goddamned best friends back in high school _after_ I told you not to. Oh, let’s not forget that you also got _pregnant_ by him.”

“And my personal life still isn’t any of your business.”

“Who are you?” This question was posed to Jensen himself, from Long Hair who’d taken up the spot on his other side. “I’m the best friend, aka the father of her son, so you’ll want to be real careful with what you say.”

Smirking, Jensen tilted his head towards Danneel and ignored her earlier advice to say nothing as he replied, “Here for her.”

“Yeah, that shit wasn’t funny when she said it. What’s your fucking name?”

“And why’d you choose to come here, of all places.” Squinty again.

Jensen spread his hands in a _What can I say_ gesture. “Must be the ambiance.”

“Leave him alone.”

Even without visual confirmation, Jensen knew that it was Padalecki who’d given the order and not Aldis. His voice was deep and smooth. And it sped down Jensen’s spine, pooled at the base for a hot, uncomfortable moment, then continued on to his cock.

Squinty and Long Hair backed off, though Long Hair looked like he was really contemplating several introductions of his fist to Jensen’s face. Jensen turned to give Padalecki his thanks for calling off his pit bulls, which is the only reason he was the one to see and react first to what was about to go down. His eyes traveled over the door just as it opened again and the still hooded guy he’d seen outside rushed in, gun out and already firing wildly towards the tables where Padalecki had headed.

“Get down!” Jensen yelled at Danneel.

Which drew the shooter’s attention to him.

The next shot the guy meant to let off was intended for Jensen. But he didn’t get a chance since Jensen now had his own gun out and had clipped the guy’s shooting hand with a bullet.

Weapon dropped, the guy cradled his injured hand against his chest with a fierce, “ _Fuck_.”

Then he backed out, eyes bouncing from person to person in nervous agitation along the way. Once fully outside, he turned and ran.

If Jensen hadn’t gotten his shot off first, the guy would’ve shot Jensen. Point blank range almost. A certain death sentence, to be sure. An ending to Jensen’s life that could’ve been neatly summed up as, _Like father, like son_.

Fuck. That.

Before the door had fully swung shut, Jensen was off his stool and on the guy’s heels. He followed him into a nearby alley where a carefully aimed bullet hit the guy in a leg, making him go down to his knees hard on the damp cement.

Gun drawn, Jensen walked right up to the guy and stood over him. His hood had fallen off during the fall and his subsequent scramble to turn around to face Jensen. A young white kid. Just a boy really. Several years younger than Jensen’s own twenty-two, no doubt. And not only young, but stupid to have come after Padalecki like he had. Wild and with no plan other than to kill, screw bystanders who were unfortunate enough to place themselves in his way.

“Hey, man, I made a mistake,” the boy babbled, near hyperventilation. “I was just gonna rob the place, I swear, didn’t mean to harm nobody.” Scars pockmarked his entire face and his teeth were damn near worn down to the roots. A fucking meth head so far gone he was literally one hit from Death’s door. “Please, just let me go. You’ll never see me again, I promise. Please.”

“Have you?” Padalecki asked from right behind Jensen.

Adrenaline already coursed through Jensen’s body. His dick had been hardening with the anticipation of what he was getting ready to do. That dark tone sent it all the way there.

“Nah, Jay, look at him.” Squinty. “He’s just a kid. No way he’s gotten down and dirty with wetwork before.”

“ _Please_. Please, don’t kill me. Just let me go.”

“Have I what?”

A significant pause. Then, Padalecki, “Ever killed anyone.”

 _I gave you a fucking gun for a reason, Jensen! Two of them! You’ve had them for_ years _. So would you mind telling just how in the fuck that perverted creep_ who touched your fucking baby sister _is still alive and breathing?_

Sixteen.

That was how old Jensen had been when he’d taken his first life. The sex offender down the street who’d invited Jenna into his house to come play with his puppies.

She’d refused his offer and he’d grabbed hold to her wrist to try and drag her inside instead, copping a feel of her immature breasts in the process and ripping her pink shirt halfway off of her. A Good Samaritan, who just so happened to be passing by at the right moment, had forced him to turn her loose.

“Several.”

“ _I’m begging you, man. Please. Please, don’t_ —”

The discharge that ended the boy’s desperate pleas that spring night echoed throughout the dark, dank alley. A single shot to the heart from the same Baby Glock Jensen had received from Willie as a pair, a 26 and a 27, for his twelfth birthday.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Italians call it Omertà, while everybody else, except your generation, that is, refers to it as The Code of Silence. Your generation?_ Snitches get stiches _, that’s what the guys your age all like to say._

Bright, summer sunlight streamed into the vehicle’s interior, entering through the windshield, the only window not tinted black with the express purpose of keeping out both unwanted eyes and rays of light. The air blowing full blast out the vents did little to cool Jensen. With a swipe of the back of one hand across his forehead, he wiped away the sweat that had gathered on his brow.

He’d been sitting outside an extravagant office building for going on an hour. Waiting on Jared and Christian while they conducted business with Mark Sheppard, CEO of the very new and very lucrative Sheppard Construction. It had been with Jared’s help that Sheppard had gotten where he was, won and signed the big dollar contracts that mattered. Apparently, the time had come for the guy to pay the devil, aka Jared.

Crazy that Jensen was on a first name basis with Jared now.

He’d been recruited by Jared the same night Jensen had killed that meth head. _Always in need of fast reflexes and heart like yours_ , had been the reasoning Jared gave from his spot across the table from Jensen.

No one had been injured, so they’d left Squinty and Long Hair, who Jensen now knew respectively as Chad and Christian, to clean up the mess, dispose of the body and deal with the police, _if_ they bothered to actually show up. Jared, Jensen and Aldis had left in the Escalade the group had all arrived in and gone to Jared’s favorite hamburger place instead.

It had been two months since Jensen had become a member of Defenestrates. He acted in the capacity as secondary driver, a position that Chad had previously held in addition to his other responsibilities. Which had been a definite success for Jensen, but was actually pretty frustrating now since primary position was still held by Genevieve Cortese. Jensen had been brought in, by Jared himself, yet he was still obviously being held at a distance, on probationary period or some shit. Nowhere near a part of the inner circle that Jensen had dubbed in his head as the Elite Four that he’d had the pleasure of meeting all at one time at Dani’s.

The real frustration Jensen felt at that exact moment, however, was from the heat. And from Chad being left with him. If Jensen didn’t know better, he’d say that he was a glorified babysitter for Chad, since Chad was allowed to attend actual meetings of importance about as often as Jensen was, which was to say never.

Chad’s specialty lay in extracting information and doling out slow, lasting punishments, up to and including death, to the enemies of Defenestrates who were higher up on the food chain, but not quite so high as to warrant actual face-to-face time with Jared. He was also responsible for the execution of all Defenestrates members, no matter their rank, if it was decreed they had to die. Sometimes, Jensen swore, he could probably accomplish his gruesome job just with the use of his annoying personality. Peaceful, upfront negotiations weren’t Chad’s thing for good reason.

Often, Jensen found himself wondering if Chad had been the one to kill his father. But he would dismiss the idea each time, soon as it came. This was a crime committed by Jared himself. Willie had been more than important enough.

Jensen shot a look of irritation at Chad, who thumped out a rhythm on the glove compartment box. There was no music playing, so there should, therefore, be no thumping.

All in all, Chad was too twitchy on the whole. The complete opposite of Jensen. Twitchiness made Jensen wary.

“Lighten up, Jenny,” Chad said on catching Jensen’s sour look. “You’re way too serious. I think that you, my man, need to get laid.” He stopped his impromptu drumming session to check his texts after his cell vibrated in his lap. “They’re on the way out.”

Thank God.

Minutes later, spent in blessed silence, both back doors of the SUV opened. Jared took his regular spot, behind Jensen, leaving Christian to climb in behind Chad.

“He agree to the increase?” Chad asked.

Since he just happened to be looking in the rearview at Jared, Jensen saw the glowering glance he shot Chad’s way. There were certain constants that the Elite Four abided by. They didn’t talk details in front of Jensen, just general shit. And never was Jensen left alone with Jared. Ever.

Chad must’ve caught the look as well. Despite his constant jitteriness, he was pretty damn perceptive. “Aww, cool out, man. Jensen—”

“Everything’s been taken care of,” Jared interrupted.

A lot of work was still ahead of Jensen. He had to prove himself, prove his credibility. Gain Jared’s trust.

Get Jared alone.

*

Progress was slow going, but Jensen persisted. He took his job as driver seriously. The SUV that was his now, for all intents and purposes, was checked each day, several times a day, to assure that explosives or other weapons hadn’t been implanted by enemies looking to make a come up or extract some revenge. Sweeps were also made on a regular basis to ensure bugs hadn’t been left behind by the Feds.

Every time the group needed him to drive them somewhere, pick them up from somewhere, _do anything_ , Jensen made himself available without fail. No questions asked.

The day finally, _finally_ , came when the brick wall between him and them started to crumble and lines blurred. It happened during the middle of the night, the horrid time of almost half past three. With a call from Chad.

“H’lo,” Jensen answered his cell, voice hoarse with sleep.

“ _Hello from the other side_ ,” Chad sang, out of key and entirely too chipper. 

An instant ache formed behind Jensen’s still closed eyes. “Five seconds, Murray, to tell me what the fuck—”

“Up and at ‘em, baby! Need you to come pick up me and Christian. Twenty minutes at the most, man, and you’d better be here.”

Chad rattled off some address that Jensen just barely caught. After taking a couple minutes to get his thoughts together, Jensen rolled out of bed and yanked on his t-shirt and jeans from the previous day that still littered his floor. Fifteen minutes, and several broken traffic laws later, found him at the meeting spot.

His heart thumped a little bit faster when Chad and Christian manhandled a bound man in bloody clothes, and with a burlap sack over his head, into the backseat. They slid in next to him, sitting one to either side.

“Uhh,” Jensen said, stupidly. Stared at the three of them as his tired brain struggled to make sense of the scene before him.

Muffled sounds of protest issued from the mouth of an unseen face. The man must’ve been gagged.

These were the kinds of rides, among others, that fell far under Gen’s jurisdiction.

And Jensen realized that this was it. The clear, definable moment he truly belonged. Was a certified member of Defenestrates. Before, he’d always _overheard_ what they didn’t mind him knowing. Now, he was being _shown_ things of implication.

Jensen turned around in his seat, faced forward. Squared his shoulders. “Where to?”

“Indiana border,” Christian answered. It had taken some time to get on his good side, which included a lot of convincing on Jensen’s part that he wasn’t interested in Danneel. Also having saved her life had been a huge fucking help. “Wolf Lake.”

Since it wasn’t a place Jensen had visited before, Chad provided directions. Along the way, he gave some insight into who their victim was as well. And the man would be a victim before everything was said and done. A body to either never be discovered or to be fished, bloated and deformed, out of the water.

“Make a right at the second light,” Chad said. “So, yeah, as I was saying, it took us a while, but we finally got some info on who was behind that bullshit hit at Dani’s. Keep going straight, then hit a left at Wolf Lake Boulevard. And that very useful info—” Chad slung an arm around the man’s shoulders, setting up a renewed round of struggling “—led us to our friend here.”

Since his head remained covered, Jensen didn’t know who their “friend” was. “Yeah? That right?”

“And, man, let me tell you, this dude didn’t have much to say at first, right? But once I pulled the knives out, yeah, he had _a lot_ to tell. Someone really, really wants the Jayster gone because he knows just a little bit too much.”

“Left turn coming up,” Christian said.

It was afterhours, so the park was quiet, no one around, not even rangers. Jensen pulled off the main road into some brush on the side to provide the black vehicle, which would be hard to see at night, with additional cover. He watched as three men walked off towards the lake on that muggy night, the one in the middle dragging his feet and causing a ruckus. And he continued to watch as only two, shoving and jostling each other in good nature, returned about a half hour later.

Although he wanted to, Jensen didn’t ask what they’d done to the man. If they wanted him to know, outside of the fact that the man was obviously dead, they’d tell him. Jensen was curious, anyone would be, but if he expressed too much interest, that was reason for legitimate concern on their part.

It was all very calculated. A tight rope of shit to be navigated carefully. Regardless, it left Jensen almost breathless and giddy with excitement.

He was in. He was _so_ in.

*

Jensen tried to catch the news over the next few days, hoping for a mention of his nighttime passenger. Had he been reported lost. Had he been found. How had he died.

Who the fuck was he.

But he found out little, other than the update that Riley Thomas was still missing, her family still praying for her safe return home. A story which caught Jensen’s notice for personal reasons every time it was given airtime. Riley was the same approximate age that Jenna had been when the friendly, neighborhood child molester decided to put hands on her. Other than the several minutes he’d spent listening to the pleas of Riley’s mother, Jensen didn’t really have time for the news, or tv in general for the matter, or anything else.

Because of, of all things, a baby. Gen was pregnant and taking a step back, way back, from her affiliation with Defenestrates. While she would always be a member, membership was for life, only true way out in a body bag, she was in all essence retiring at the ripe old age of twenty-six.

With a warm hug and a kiss to her cheek, Jared personally saw her and her fiancé off at the airport. They were moving to Atlanta, where she planned to be a stay at home mom for a few years, then maybe get into teaching or something. Whatever it was she ended up doing, it would be as far removed as possible from her life in Chicago.

That left Jensen to be the full time driver for the Elite Four.

That left Jensen in the position where he was drawn in even closer to them, purely by reason that he was around almost all the time now. And when not around, he was never far away, constantly on-call.

It was during one of his on-call times that Jensen had an encounter he’d been expecting for a while, since the first time he’d turned on the Escalade really. Right after Jensen walked out the grocery store, hands loaded down with bags, a suited older man fell into step with him.

 _They’ll try to flip you. They’ll try hard. And I don’t care what other mistakes you make, but you don’t make that one._ Ever _. You don’t flip, you hear me? It’s about honor._

“Wow,” Jensen said, then smirked. “Already?”

“So you know who I am,” the suit said.

A quick once over revealed that he wore a sky blue button-down and a checkered tie under his navy jacket. Should have just gone ahead and hung an FBI badge around his neck as well, the colors certainly would have matched well enough. “No clue.”

“You know what I want.”

“Have no idea.” SUV’s hatchback popped open, Jensen loaded in his groceries. “I can’t help you.”

“Can’t?” The guy reached up to press the button which sealed the SUV back up nice and tight again after Jensen was done. “Or won’t?”

“ _Can’t_ , since I don’t even know who you are or what you want. Only thing I know about you is that your questioning methods involve tired clichés.” Before Jensen could make his way to the driver’s door, the guy blocked his path. Jensen folded his arms across his chest in annoyance. “So, hey, I hear that Riley Thomas girl is still missing. How ‘bout you go make yourself useful by looking into her disappearance?”

“Funny that you should mention her.”

“Yeah, well, you have one fucked up sense of humor, then. I don’t find anything at all funny about her going missing.”

“Neither do I, but what I do find funny is that you literally said just two seconds ago that you don’t know who I am, when you obviously do. Agent Mitch Pileggi.” He extended a hand for Jensen to shake, but dropped it when it soon became apparent that Jensen would not be returning the gesture. “You’re young, son, too young to screw up your life like this. Why’d you move here from Texas just to get caught up in Defenestrates’ mess? Didn’t take you long either, you’ve been here less than four months. Wasn’t enough to continue living your life being a little nobody from Houston? Spoiler alert, nobodies from Houston typically don’t end up dead or in jail.”

Teeth gritted tight, Jensen blew out a calming breath through his nose. So, the FBI had been looking into him. But hadn’t, obviously, cottoned on to Jensen’s relationship to the Pelligrinos. Else this jackass would probably be tossing that all up in Jensen’s face, too. Placing both Jensen’s life and goal at risk. Small miracles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I’m just sure that you don’t. If you do come up with something that you’d like to share with the class, here’s my contact info.” A business card was dropped to the ground at Jensen’s feet. “Consider what I’m about to say next to be a push in the right direction for you. No hard feelings, okay, but you should really think about what your mother—Julia, that’s her name, right? Well, you should _really_ think about what Julia would say if she knew what you were up here doing.”

“If you’re trying to get me on your side, you’re doing it wrong.”

“You’re a man-child, Jensen, but making grown-up decisions. I’m here to dissuade you from making worse choices, not to coddle you.” Walking backwards, in the direction of a non-descript black sedan, Pileggi added, “Here’s some more food for thought, think about how you probably have your dear, departed father, and all other Ackles men to have gone before you, turning over in disgrace in their graves right now.”

Seething, Jensen underwent the laborious process, right there in the parking lot, of checking for bugs after Pileggi was gone. It was late summer, and temps had just started to cool down, thankfully, but he was still a sweaty mess by the time he was done.

“Yeah, Pops,” he muttered, holding a tiny black box between his thumb and forefinger, “would it have been too much to give a guy some warning that the FBI are such fucking _dicks_?”

When Jensen pulled out his spot, he paid special attention to run the front wheel over the trash he’d dug out the Escalade’s guts as well as the garbage Pileggi had left behind on the ground.

Lounging on the sofa in Jared’s office at Padaqua that night, Jensen caught Jared eyeing him several times. His gaze was contemplative as he stared at Jensen, unabashed, while reclined back in his chair with fingers steepled together under his chin.

There were several conversations going on at any given time. Between Chad and Aldis. Between Christian and the heads of Defenestrates’ street crews who reported up through him, who were also all present. Between all of the Elite Four. Mostly, Jensen wasn’t paying attention to what was being discussed. But focusing at all became an impossibility whenever he felt the heavy weight of Jared’s attention settle on him.

Jesus Christ, did Jared know about the spark of lust Jensen still felt anytime they were around each other? If he did, then how? Jensen kept the tightest of reins on that shit. There was _no way_ he could’ve found out.

Icy cold, a shiver ran down Jensen’s spine. Did Jared know who Jensen was? Have a suspicion maybe?

Breath hitched in his throat, Jensen rolled his head in Jared’s direction along the back of the couch the next time he felt Jared’s eyes boring into him. Something hot and electric sparked in those hazels. Much longer than he should’ve, Jensen held Jared’s gaze. He couldn’t force himself to look away.

Not until Chad asked, “Jenny, you even listening?”

Jensen scrambled into an upright and proper sitting position. “What?”

“Where’s your head at, man?” Question posed, Chad looked from Jensen to Jared. From Jared to Jensen. Said, “Huh.”

“Huh?” Jensen repeated. “Huh what? What’s _huh_ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, bro, nothing at all.” Then Chad turned back to his most recent conversation, which had been with the head of one of Christian’s street crews.

And, still, Jared continued to stare.

*

A whole week didn’t even pass before Pileggi approached Jensen again, this time right in front of Padaqua when Jensen was, thank fuck, alone. The results were much the same as their first encounter, down to Jensen feigning ignorance and Pileggi bringing Jensen’s family into it as a shame factor.

This time it was Jory: _Tell me you know that you’re a real sorry piece of shit when it comes to being a role model for the boy. You’d better_ hope _that he doesn’t follow in your footsteps, because I’ll be right there waiting on him if he does_.

And Jenna: _How would you feel if she started associating with the same types of people that you have? She just turned twelve, right? Well, how about if they had her on her back, legs wide open, while they destroyed her tender, young pussy? Because that’s basically what you’ve done, son, just got right in bed with the bad guys who are eventually going to bend you over and fuck you right in the ass, no preparation beforehand and with only your own blood to slick the way._

The very next day found Jensen slammed into a wall of Jared’s office, Jared’s hand wrapped tight around his throat. Quiet descended throughout the room, only the heavy breathing of Chad, Aldis and Christian, all several feet away and no help, not that they would, testament to the fact that they weren’t alone.

“You working for the Feds now, Jensen?” Jared was so close that the too calm words tickled over Jensen’s cheek in a gentle breath.

“ _No_ ,” Jensen wheezed out. Fingers tightened around his throat. Barely able to draw in air, Jensen said, “No, fuck no! Not working for anybody!”

Grip loosened just the tiniest bit, Jared’s brow furrowed in a frown. “Twice now Pileggi has approached you.”

“How do you even know that? You have somebody watching me?”

“No.”

Yeah, okay. Jared knew a lot for him to not have somebody with eyes on Jensen. “I’ve given him nothing.”

“You sure about that?”

“Jesus, _yes_.”

But Jared didn’t take a step away. Instead, he leaned in even closer. His leg pushed up tight to Jensen’s crotch, rubbed Jensen’s cock until it was at full erection. “You may not be working with the Feds, but you are something else, aren’t you?”

Hands worked up to the center of Jared’s chest, Jensen pushed him back with a solid shove. Voice low and tight, so that only Jared could hear, he snarled, “ _Not a fucking fag_.”

A muscle jumped in Jared’s unshaven jaw. Just as low, he responded, “Fag or not, what you will be is hurting if I hear that word come out your pretty little mouth ever again.”

Then he turned and stalked off, out the room without another word. Left a confused, aroused Jensen in his wake, slumped against the wall and drawing in desperate gulps of air. Honestly, at that moment, Jensen didn’t know if he wanted to kill Jared or be fucked by him.

Eyes wide, Aldis looked back and forth between Jensen and the door that Jared, with Chad and Christian hot on his heels, had just disappeared through. It was very easy to read his lips as they formed around the soundless words of, _Oh, shit._

*

Next time Pileggi came sniffing around, to Jensen’s home, to say that Jensen wasn’t in the mood was an understatement. He’d just gotten off the phone with his mother after spending thirty straight minutes assuring her that _No, Mom, I’m not following in his footsteps_ and _Of course, I’m being safe up here_ and _I know you’re not an idiot, but that FBI agent is, apparently, and honestly, I don’t even know why that asshole called and told you that_.

Jensen slammed the door right in Pileggi’s pissed off face. But only after saying, “You got nothing on me. So, until you do, stay the _fuck_ away.”

That was the beginning, entirety and end of that conversation. All future ones, too, unless Pileggi had an arrest warrant and, even then, Jensen still wasn’t saying shit.


	4. Chapter 4

_In this world, once the trust is gone, it’s gone forever. Ain’t no getting it back, son, so be careful that you never lose it, if it really counts and is important to you._

Jensen didn’t know what the fuck was going on. He was told to be _here_ to pick up Jared and Aldis from this shipment spot. Or to drop off Jared and Christian _there_ at that shipment spot.

But every time Jensen arrived at the indicated warehouse, it always seemed to be much quieter and calmer that what seemed realistic for a major drug deal to have just gone down. None of the street crews were ever in place to protect the merchandise. Nor were they there packing shit up in the trunks of their cars to shuttle off quickly for immediate preparation and distribution. No one else was ever present other than Jared and one other member of the Elite Four, which was normally Aldis as he was the one to negotiate each deal, same as with all of Defenestrates’ big business.

Since it wasn’t Jensen’s place to ask questions, he just rolled with it.

There was one thing that bothered him, though, niggled at the back of his mind. Defenestrates were into a lot of things (loan sharking, prostitution, gunrunning, theft and contract killing, just to name a few), but they’d never been into the trafficking of drugs. That was a prejudice Jared had brought over with him from his time under JD Morgan, his uncle. One that Jensen could definitely respect since drugs tended to destroy communities and families like nothing else ever quite could. Not once, in the six plus months that Jensen had been around, had drugs ever been mentioned, discussed or entertained. Until, approximately, four weeks ago.

Jensen’s lack of knowledge of any worth was a result of him being, more or less, confined to the Escalade during the shipments. He was literally only on site long enough to drop off his passengers or to pick them up.

But maybe he’d be able to get a little clarity, and the reasoning behind _this_ particular new expansion, with his next passenger pick-up, which Jensen was currently on his way to. The text he’d received from Jared had been very specific. Along with an address, Jared had indicated that Jensen should actually, _Park out front and come inside_.

Just like with all the other shipment locations, everything was quiet when Jensen pulled up. He hopped out the SUV, then stepped inside the warehouse through the corrugated metal door that was partially slid open. The lights were on, allowing Jensen to see...

Nothing.

No crates to hide the cocaine, no cocaine bricks laid out in plain sight. No leftover yellowish-white dusty residue. This was just a huge room full of absolutely nothing.

Tonight’s shipment was supposed to have been dropped off just an hour ago. No way had arrangements been made that quickly for everything to be cleared out already. Not with the amount of product that was supposed to be involved.

Jensen turned in a slow circle, eyes darting everywhere, making sure that he hadn’t overlooked something. Nerves crawling up his spine, his hand inched towards the holster strapped under the flannel the cool weather had forced him to start wearing again. This had the makings of a bad situation written all over it.

Abandoned warehouse. Remote location. The person who’d told him to show up nowhere in sight.

Sounded like a set-up for Jensen’s execution. Probably by a rival faction, maybe by Jared.

Slow footsteps from behind had Jensen spinning in that direction. Only to see that it wasn’t Chad arrived on the scene to take him out.

It was Jared. Just Jared.

All by his lonesome.

Jensen didn’t pull his weapon, but neither did he let go of it either. Instead, he asked, “Where is everything?”

“Everything?” Jared repeated, tone slightly mocking. “Oh, you mean the drugs that I never purchased and never will? Probably still somewhere in the mountains, either in Afghanistan or Bolivia, take your pick. You know that Defenestrates don’t deal in drugs.”

As Jared continued to approach, Jensen backed away. He was extremely confused. “Then what have the past few weeks been all about?”

“My mentor used to favor those same Baby Glocks as you. Get a real gun, I’d tell him. And he’d always say, small hands, son, they’re my curse and these babies fit perfect. Now how ‘bout we use your big ass for target practice to see if my Baby Glocks are real or not.” Right in the center of the warehouse, about six or so feet away from Jensen, Jared stopped. “Either pull that gun and, if you do, Ackles, you had better use it and, more importantly, you had better _not miss_ , or take your hand off of it _right the fuck now_.”

This could finally be Jensen’s chance. Rid the world of the stain who had killed his father. Jesus, he was so fucking tempted to take the shot.

But a quick movement from outside let Jensen know that Jared wasn’t quite as alone as he appeared. Chad, Christian or Aldis skulked around out there. Since Jensen had little to no interest in getting into a gun fight that he just might not walk away from, he dropped his hand to his side.

“Good choice,” Jared said. “You’ve done nothing wrong, so you have nothing to be nervous or worry about.” He paced back and forth, just a few steps forward, then the few steps back to his original starting point. “We’ve been feeding you false information for a while now,” he admitted, unapologetic. “Had to be sure that any seeds the Feds may have planted in your dome were all duds and not taking root.”

What? This had all been a huge, elaborate set-up? _A test for Jensen_? “Why?”

“I had a friend once. Back when I was still under Morgan.”

Jensen couldn’t even fathom where this story was going to end up or how it related to him. So he kept his mouth shut. With a nod of his head, he indicated that Jared should go on.

“We were... I was extremely close to this particular friend. Best friends, I guess you could say. Thought I could trust him. So I brought him into Morgan’s fold, just like I had with Aldis and Christian and Chad, and taught him everything I knew.”

“He flipped?”

“And claimed that he hadn’t.” Jared stopped moving. Turned to face Jensen, eyes hard. “All the way up ‘til they put him in the Witness Protection Program, he claimed that he hadn’t, while at the same time claiming that he...” 

Jared trailed off, didn’t finish his sentence. Jensen knew that he wouldn’t. Whatever he had been about to admit was too personal.

“Wow, you had your very own Henry Hill.” Shit was too heavy right now and heavy could be dangerous. Jensen let the left corner of his lip pull up in a smirk to add some levity. “That sucks, man.”

About five years ago, when Jared’s relationship to his uncle had come to an end and the Defenestrates had been born, there had been a major takedown in the Morgan Crime Family. Operation Absolute Betrayal. The Morgan Family still, to present day, hadn’t fully recovered from it. JD remained the head of the family, but he was behind bars, and would be for a long time, so Ty Olsson, second in command and a known hothead, was acting leader in his absence. Things had been on a continuous, downward spiral for the family for a while, with no end in sight.

Jensen had only been seventeen at the time that operation went down and Jared just the same age as Jensen was now. Most of what Jensen knew about that operation, he’d read online while researching Jared. But he also remembered Willie saying something during a visit once. At the time, the comment hadn’t meant much without supporting context, which Willie had refused to give.

_Fucking rat bastard cunt. Deserves to have his balls force fed to him, then have his head chopped off. Tongue needs to be taken out, too. And shipped to the FBI since they like it so goddamn much._

But, now, it made so much sense. Fuck, did it.

“He’s the reason behind your rift with Morgan, isn’t he?” The realization shocked Jensen, wiped his crooked grin right off his face. “The reason Morgan severed ties with you?”

“No, my uncle actually forgave me a long time ago for what happened, never blamed me in the first place, really, though I blame myself enough for the both of us. My exile was self-imposed.”

“You still haven’t forgiven yourself.” It hadn’t been posed as a question, because Jensen was positive that he was correct.

“No, I haven’t. And I won’t. Not while _my friend_ is still out there somewhere. Walking around free, living his life under the protection of the fucking Feds, while JD rots away in a cage.”

Considering that it had been Jared’s friend to bring them all down, common sense said that Jared should’ve gone down, too. Should’ve, in fact, been the first and to have gone down the hardest. But he hadn’t. “How’d you get off?”

“My friend...” A strange, sad smile spread across Jared’s face. “My friend negotiated for my freedom, that’s how. And I’m going to use it to kill him. Somehow, some way, some day, I _will_ use it to right my wrongs.” With a literal shake of his head, he shook his mood off and was back to his normal self. “So, anyway, the last few weeks? I had to be sure that I could trust you. Congrats. You didn’t tip off the Feds to our fake drug deals, so you passed with flying colors. A-fucking-plus. Keep up the good work.” Jared walked away, to the warehouse’s sliding door, tossing one last comment over his shoulder as he went of, “My mentor told me once that the one thing you absolutely don’t do in our world, the one mistake you never, ever make, is to flip.”

With that statement, he left. And Jensen’s whole world tilted off balance. The words of Jared’s mentor sounded damn similar to words spoken by Willie Pelligrino. Willie, who’d also loved his Baby Glocks.

Could... could Willie be the mentor in question?

No, no way. There had been unmistakable fondness in Jared’s voice both times he’d spoken of his mentor tonight. So, if Willie had been that person, didn’t make sense for Jared to have killed him. Right? _Right_?

“Yo, Jensen, everything good?” The question came from Christian, who stood just outside the warehouse, watching Jensen through the opened door.

“Yeah, man, yeah, I’m good.”

“Let’s roll, then.”

Troubled, Jensen followed after Christian. Where there hadn’t been any doubt before about what he needed to do, his mission to accomplish, doubt now existed in spades.

*

Loud music thumped through the club’s speakers. Over the sound of the rumbling bass, it was impossible to make out the words of whatever Top 100 pop hit was playing. The DJ’s excited yells every few seconds weren’t helping out much in that regard either.

Jensen was up in VIP with the Elite Four, along with the heads of Christian’s street crews and whoever they’d brought along with them, including several of their soldiers and significant others. Danneel was even present, the closure of Dani’s for her safety after its discovery by enemies freeing up her nights. Tonight was the grand opening for _Sinister_ , Chicago’s newest, hip place to be for the young and young at heart. Jared’s latest business venture.

This type of environment wasn’t really Jensen’s thing, or Jared’s either from what Jensen could tell, but they’d all come out at Chad’s insistence. He’d especially laid it on thick for Jared. _C’mon, Jaybird, you can’t not show up for the grand opening of your own club. That’s just... that’s just being a dickweed._

Jared was currently sprawled in the middle of a microfiber sofa, right across from Jensen, with a tiny, sexy little something wearing far too little with how frigid it was outside perched on one of his legs. Able to feel Jensen’s gaze, his eyes flicked up to meet Jensen’s. But only after lingering on Jensen’s mouth for a few seconds first.

There had been some sort of shift between them. Since that all too recent night at the warehouse, things just felt... different. And it was clearly sexual in nature.

Jensen, with all the conflicted emotions that one person could possibly have, still wanted Jared. And Jared, despite living in the same world as Jensen, a world where homosexuality was a sin worthy of capital punishment, apparently wanted Jensen right back.

With Jared, it had to be a form of subjugation, though. The jail house mentality of homosexuality made okay because it wasn’t so much about the sex as it was a way to display dominance over an underling. Yeah, well, Jensen had no interest in playing bitch just to assuage the terrifying beast or whatever. Even if he actually wasn’t all that opposed to bending over to get his rocks off, his dirty little secret.

Holding his empty shot glass aloft, Jensen said, “Gonna get another one. You?”

“Nah, not right now.”

At the bar, Jensen watched the bartender pour his next shot of Crown Royal. His drinks were all complimentary, but this would be his last. He had a nice buzz going, but as the designated driver, he couldn’t allow himself to get smashed. Not like Chad, who was currently on the VIP’s small dance floor showing off his spastic moves to a laughing Danneel.

A body pressed right up to Jensen’s side. Close. Too close for the very masculine voice that rumbled in his ear, “Long time, no see, Jensen.”

Eyes closed for a brief moment, Jensen allowed himself to enjoy the warmth plastered against him. Spicy cologne filled his nose, taunting him with a taste of something that he could never really have and _never_ in this city. He forced himself to take a step to the side. “Tom, what are you doing up here, man? Long ways from home, aren’t you?”

“You are, too,” Tom replied. Then he smiled and pulled Jensen into an embrace.

Keeping it manly, Jensen slapped Tom’s back. Then, quick as he could, extricated himself. He picked up the shot that the bartender had left and swallowed it in one gulp, slamming his glass to the bar when done. “Yeah, I, uh, I live here now.”

“Small world, man. I go to school here. Got a basketball scholarship straight out of high school to the University of Chicago.”

“That’s awesome.” Jensen couldn’t help but to check out Tom surreptitiously. He was near the same height as Jared, but that’s where the similarities ended. The charm with Tom was of the boy next door type, while Jared didn’t have charm, just a natural aura of danger. “You look good, man. Real good.”

“Right back atcha.”

Tom Welling had been the star basketball player for the high school they’d both attended. Captain of the team. Mr. Most Popular. And had been as repressed as Jensen himself.

It was a long gone memory now how they’d found out about each other. Maybe it had been a too long look. Or a lingering touch. But find out they had. One night, after a game, three sheets to the wind, they’d fucked on the backseat of the station wagon owned by Mrs. Welling. And, again, a few weeks later on the side of Jensen’s house, middle of the night, behind a blooming bush that provided more than enough cover for two drunk teenage boys just trying to get off quick.

They’d found the means and ways to do it, again and again and again, before finally calling it off through a mutual, non-spoken agreement.

Leaned in close, Tom asked under his breath, “So, you _out_ yet?”

And he straightened up quick when Jensen answered, “No.” Jensen’s eyes involuntarily sought out Jared again, to find Jared watching them, a dark expression covering his face. He looked back to Tom. “In all honesty? Probably never will be.”

“Man, that blows.”

Shoulders rising up and down in a resigned shrug, Jensen said, “S’just my life.”

“I’m not, I’m not completely out myself, but my teammates, yeah, they know. And they’re cool with it, for the most part.” A mischievous grin lit up Tom’s face. “Remember how we used to do it?”

“How could I forget?” A sad chuckle worked its way out of Jensen’s throat. “It’s the _only_ way I’ve ever done it.”

With lots of liquid courage and only under the cover of darkness.

“If you’re up for it,” Tom said, “just for old time’s sake, I mean, meet me downstairs out back in five, alright?”

This wasn’t something Jensen could afford to do. Not here. Not now. Not _ever_. “Yeah, okay, maybe I will.”

Soon as Jensen sat back down in his spot across from Jared, Jared asked, “Who was that?”

“Just someone I know from back home.”

The girl was gone now, across the room with her friends, and Jared had the foot of the leg she’d been sitting on propped against the edge of the table between them. “You two sure seemed awfully cozy over there.”

“Like I said, just a friend.” Jensen blew out a sigh when Jared continued to stare at him. Dropped his voice and added, “Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I already told you that I’m not into that gay shit, alright?” Jensen checked the time on his phone. “Gonna hit the head.”

But instead of going to the bathroom, he headed down the stairs. And out the back door.

The alley behind _Sinister_ was just about pitch black. Perfect. Well, almost perfect since it was also colder than shit back there. What wasn’t right, however, was the required level of liquid courage, but there was no one else around, so Jensen was cool and would be able to make do. Given current circumstances, better to keep a clearish head for this anyway.

He made his way to the far side of a dumpster, out the back door’s line of view, when Tom called out, “Over here.”

They’d never been about kissing before. At least not on the mouth, they hadn’t. And they still weren’t. Tom pinned Jensen against the wall, his lips working the hollow of Jensen’s throat.

Eyes shut tight, Jensen thrust his hips forward, in search of friction. Met nothing.

He only realized that Tom must’ve been forcefully yanked away on hearing Jared’s snarled, “Leave. _Now_.”

It took a second for Jensen’s vision to adjust when he opened his eyes again. When he was finally able to focus, it was to see Jared in front of him, Tom no longer anywhere in sight. Jared’s face was a roiling combination of dark and danger.

Cautiously, oh so cautiously, Jensen said, “I can explain.”

Because Jared was right there in front of him. Had _been witness_ to Jensen giving in to those desires which had no part in their world. No matter that Jared, at least on some level, shared the same tendencies, he’d never acted on them far as Jensen knew.

That was a very, very clear distinction between the two of them.

“Not a fucking fag, you said. Not into that fucking gay shit, you said.” Jared laughed a little, then added, “Just a goddamn friend, you said.”

A leg was shoved between Jensen’s. Poised in such a way that it could cause some real damage, send Jensen to the hospital with injuries to make even the most stalwart of doctors cringe, if they possessed the same parts. But it wasn’t doing that. Yet. For now, it was just there.

Threatening.

“Listen, Jared, I said that I can—”

“Explain? Yeah, heard you the first time.” Leaned in close, face inches from Jensen’s, with his hands placed on the wall to the sides of Jensen’s head, Jared trapped Jensen in place. “Just how are we supposed to build trust between us, Jenny, when you _always lie so goddamn much_?”

Jared pressed his thigh tight against Jensen’s hardness. The sweet pressure caused Jensen to gasp. It was a struggle to keep his hands down at his sides, to not grab hold of Jared, pull him in closer.

Jensen didn’t dare do that. He still wasn’t sure what this was even all about yet.

Option one: Jared trying to get Jensen off.

Or...

Option two: Jared about to crush precious, dangly bits in punishment for Jensen being bent and made wrong.

“If you want to lie to yourself, fine.” Then, right in Jensen’s ear, Jared growled, “But don’t you _ever_ fucking lie to me again.”

He caught Jensen’s lips in a rough kiss. Tongued at Jensen’s mouth until he was allowed entry, which he barged forward and took. Option one, then. Definitely Jared giving in to his proclivities and partaking of the prohibited.

This wasn’t love making or sex. This was a battle so Jensen gave back just as much and just as hard as he received. At least, he did at first. Until Jared moved, grinding against Jensen, causing Jensen’s hands to fly to his waist. Providing help and guidance that Jared didn’t need as he rocked Jensen to an intense, spurting orgasm, his own cock a solid line of unsatisfied lust pressed to Jensen’s hip.

After essentially blowing out his brains, the awareness of just how bad this could’ve gone settled on Jensen, leaving him a shivering mess that had nothing to do with the near freezing temperature. Completely at Jared’s will, Jensen shook apart against him.

Jared eased the pressure between their mouths, then ended the kiss. Pulling back, he used a thumb to press down hard on Jensen’s swollen and bruised bottom lip for a moment before dropping his hand.

“My mentor, he was a smart, smart man. And there were a lot of things he told me that I live by, day in and day out. Things that have kept me alive.” The upward tilt of Jared’s lips was feral and for goddamn sure not a smile. “But there was one thing he was wrong about. I’m going to be me. And you, Jensen? You should be you.”

“Aldis told me about this possibility, but, God, I’d hoped he was wrong,” Christian said from somewhere out of sight. The breadth of Jared’s shoulders blocked him from Jensen’s view. “I sure the fuck hope, for your sake, Jay, that you got it right this time.”

“Fuck off, Kane.” Just the softest of touches, Jared pressed his face to Jensen’s neck, his scruff a light tease on Jensen’s sensitive skin. “I want to trust you. Don’t lie to me again.”


	5. Chapter 5

_Hold true to your convictions. Sometimes, you’ll be forced to make compromises, but never let that compromise be you._

Willie had been Jared’s mentor. But in a silent, unknown capacity, as it were. Jared hadn’t said as much, but he’d also said it all.

Two times now, he’d parroted to Jensen words that Jensen had heard before. Had heard himself straight out of Willie’s mouth.

And the knowledge about the Baby Glocks...

Jensen was at a standstill. Just as surely as he was being brought further and further into Defenestrates, essentially turning the Elite Four into the Elite Five, he was losing himself, losing sight of his goal. He didn’t know what the truth was anymore, which meant that he didn’t know what to do.

Had Jared actually killed Willie? Had Mark’s intel maybe been wrong? Where had Mark even gotten his intel from?

Who, _what_ , should he believe?

He was also left alone with Jared all the time now. In Jared’s home. In Jensen’s, where Jensen found himself spending less and less time. At Jared’s office.

Yet, Jensen never tried to make a move. Never tried to take Jared out. He was too conflicted to go for his mark. Too uncertain.

And it didn’t help that things were growing ever more heated and complicated between him and Jared by the second.

“Need you to do something,” Jared mouthed into the back of Jensen’s neck.

He was a solid presence behind Jensen, the hot skin of his naked chest scorching Jensen’s back. One arm snaked up to find a home across Jensen’s throat. The pressure was unmistakable. Jensen swallowed and could feel the implacable force Jared exerted. One that could be life ending if Jared so decided.

Probably had been for other, unfortunate souls.

But not for Jensen. For Jensen, it was just foreplay.

“What?”

Jared eased down the zipper of Jensen’s jeans, the fly already popped open. “Need you to meet up with Richie.” Using both hands, allowing Jensen to swallow freely again, Jared worked both Jensen’s jeans and underwear over his hips, to the floor. “Find out why he’s been so shifty lately.”

Slow and sure, Jared stroked Jensen who’d been hard enough to pound nails since Jared had snuck up behind him in the hallway just a few moments before and walked him into the bedroom. Jared’s lips had kissed, sucked and nipped at Jensen’s neck the entire way, the stubble of his 5 o'clock shadow burning Jensen just right.

“Then what?”

“Then you do whatever is necessary to make that weasel faced bastard understand I need his head back in the fucking game.” One hand at Jensen’s hip to hold him steady, Jared placed the flat of the other in the center of Jensen’s back and pushed. Bent Jensen at the waist, splayed him across Jared’s bed.

The bed where Jensen slept several nights each week now. A fitting background for this inexorable, murky thing that twisted between them, dragging them closer with each passing day. Entwining them in ways that Jensen possibly didn’t want to free himself of.

Using the head of his cock, Jared nudged at Jensen’s hole. Demanded entrance. Slid home with a steady, unrelenting push. They’d done this just an hour ago, when Jensen had first arrived, hot and hungry for each other. They’d done this that very morning, before Jensen had left to meet up with Christian to take care of some minor business. Throughout the night before, they’d done it several times.

Yet, no matter how many times Jared fucked Jensen, Jensen remained tight, his body forcing Jared to work his way back in. A delicious, pleasure filled struggle to find that forbidden place inside of Jensen that Jared had marked as his with his come again and again. That he’d declared as his own.

“Need him for that job Aldis lined up.” And, with that, business was concluded for the moment. Balls slapping Jensen’s ass with loud smacks, Jared set up a fast pace. “Fuck, so damn tight. Sweet ass always so goddamn tight for me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you,” Jensen gritted out in response to the endearment Jared only ever pulled out during these times between them. Not even to himself would he ever admit that the word caused his heart to hitch. “Already told you, not a fucking chick.”

“No, not a chick,” Jared readily agreed. “ _My bitch_.”

It was a quick fuck, almost brutal in its intensity, like it always was between them, fast or slow. Jared pushed in deep, so fucking deep, deep to his place that no one else had ever hit before when fucking Jensen. Breath drawn in, he blew his load. The wet heat spreading in his ass, filling him up, and the rhythmic pulse of Jared’s cock pushed Jensen right up to the edge. He got a hand around himself just as his ass clenched around Jared, drawing out groans from them both. Two strokes and his release soiled the comforter beneath him.

Jared pulled out and fell down to the bed beside Jensen, on his back and with feet planted on the floor. Sure and confident in his knowledge of where Jensen would be when it was time to hit the sheets, he said, “Just so you know, this is your side of the bed tonight.”

He got the middle finger in response. But there was no heat behind the gesture. How could Jensen mean it when Jared was using the back of his knuckles to ever so gently stroke across Jensen’s temple?

Fuck, Jensen had to find out something. And he had to find out yesterday. He was in imminent danger of losing himself here with Jared. To Jared.

To the man Jensen suspected, _hoped_ , was not actually responsible for his father’s death.

*

“Richie!” Despite knowing that it was pointless, Jensen banged on the door. “Richie!” He’d been freezing his nuts off on Richie’s front stoop for five minutes now and had yet to receive an answer to any of his demands for entrance. “Come open the door, you fucking asshole! It’s fucking cold out here!”

Jared was right. Richie had been shifty lately. For the past few months, actually. Which was no good, considering that he was the best art thief in Chicagoland. Although he didn’t have all the details, Jensen knew about Aldis’s job and, from what he’d heard, Richie was the best person to put on it.

Only, it was hard to put Richie on it when he hadn’t been answering any calls for the past week. Made no damn sense since Richie liked money and he got paid well enough for any jobs he worked for Defenestrates. He was probably out of town, working a job for someone else or himself, but he’d always paid Jared the courtesy of not ignoring him whenever Jared reached out. His change in behavior was definitely worth looking into.

“Alright, dickhead, I gave you a chance,” Jensen muttered.

He kicked the door in frustration, then got down to work with his lock picks after a glance revealed no one to be around. This was a recently acquired skill, so he didn’t hold back on his congratulatory fist pump when the deadbolt turned a few minutes later. Lock picks put away inside the pocket of his flannel, Jensen pulled down on the door handle and let himself in. Immediately, it hit him that it was only marginally warmer inside the house than it was outside of it. Just warm enough, really, for the pipes to not freeze.

“Richie,” Jensen called out, walking down the hall, despite the too cool house serving as evidence that Richie wasn’t there. “Hey, man, you in here?”

There was a sucked in gulp of air and a quick movement, from in the kitchen. Someone leaving in a hurry.

“Richie, stop!” Jensen rushed towards the kitchen, entering just in time to see a door on the far side of the room slam shut behind a fast moving body. “ _Goddamn it_.”

Certain he was about to walk into some type of trap, or something else equally as bad, Jensen slowly approached with his gun drawn and aimed. He tugged the door open to reveal a staircase, with no one waiting on the top landing to launch an attack on him, thank God. The light switch, right inside the door, did nothing when he flipped it, however. Great.

And this was all so very strange. Raised Jensen’s hackles.

Why would Richie run from Jensen? Why would he go hide in his _basement_ of all places? They hadn’t had very many interactions with each other over the three quarters of the year more or less that Jensen had been around, but still Richie should know enough to realize that Jensen would follow. His heart and dedication were things Jared constantly talked up, beyond pleased with Defenestrates’ newest member, so that meant everybody Jared did business with had heard of Jensen, because when Jared Padalecki spoke, people fucking listened.

Steps creaking under his weight, Jensen descended. About halfway down, the _smell_ hit him. And, when his foot hit the unfinished cement floor, he stopped. Took shallow breaths as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness below mixing with the weak sunlight filtering down from the kitchen above.

Once he could see, his arm fell down to his side, gun pointing harmlessly at the floor. And there was only thing he could think to say. “Jesus-fucking-Christ.”

*

Not caring what the fuck Jared was in the middle of, Jensen stormed through Padaqua’s receptionist area and slammed into his office.

“Get out,” Jensen barked to Chad, who occupied one of the chairs right in front of Jared’s desk.

But Chad just continued to sit there. Because he was a dumb ass and couldn’t pick up on Jensen’s foul mood. “Just because you’ve received a promotion and ain’t the driver no more—”

“Chad, so help me God, you need. To get. The fuck. _Out_.”

“Screw you.” After leveling Jensen with a hard look for a few, tense seconds, Chad finally got up and left.

Jensen walked up to the very front of Jared’s desk. “Did you know?”

“Did I know what?” Jared regarded him with raised eyebrows.

“Did you know the other way Richie earns money in addition to working jobs?”

“Can’t say that I do.” And that obliviousness was genuine.

Relieved, Jensen knuckled his fists on the edge of the desk and let his head fall forward, hang down between his shoulders. “You need to find yourself a new art thief.”

A finger hooked under Jensen’s chin and lifted his head back up. On his feet, Jared had leaned across the expanse of his desk so that he could reach Jensen. “What happened?”

Knowing he had broken street code, Jensen jerked away from Jared’s touch. Because fuck street code. He held Jared’s gaze as he said, “I called the police on that asshole, that’s what happened. And when he gets back from wherever he fucked off to, he’s going to jail.”

“You did what now?” After rounding his desk, Jared walked right up to Jensen, stopped inches from him. “And you came in here, daring to tell me that you just snitched _straight to my fucking face_ , why exactly?”

“You’re the one who said no more lies, man. You do remember that conversation, right, Jared? Huh? _Huh_? Or have you conveniently forgotten now?” 

Murderous was the only word to describe the expression which cloaked Jared’s face. “You have a reason for siccing the pigs on him?”

“Two.” Nervous, because he’d seen firsthand just the week before, in a soundproofed room in the back of Padaqua, Jared beat the head of a motorcycle gang damn near to death using just his fists in a fair fight over missing money, Jensen steeled his spine. Refused to back down, despite the enlightenment as to just how dire this situation could possibly get revealed by the occasional twitch of Jared’s jaw. “His elderly aunt. And his even older grandfather.”

“What about them?”

“She’s intellectually disabled and couldn’t tell me shit really. He’s suffering from dementia, more dead than alive, but he was still able to outline, in glorious detail, just how they got there, chained to the walls of Richie’s basement.” Thinking of the horror he’d just witnessed in that dark, glacial, makeshift jail, Jensen rubbed the forefinger and thumb of his right hand across his eyes. The smell alone, unwashed bodies covered in piss and shit, had been a nightmare he wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon. “She’s lost a lot of weight, man, they both have, in the three or four months since Richie’s mother died and he took custody of them to gain access to their SSI benefits.”

And now Jared looked like he was starting to get some small inkling of just what he’d sent Jensen into.

Moment right, maximum impact locked and loaded and ready to be delivered, Jensen hit him with the worst of it. “She slipped her cuffs. And you know what she did? Rather than call the police, I mean? She raided the goddamn refrigerator, just to get some food and water for her and her father ‘cause they haven’t eaten in days, then _apologized_ to me for what she’d done. She begged, fucking _begged_ , that I didn’t tell Richie.”

“Jesus-fucking-Christ.” Horrified, Jared fell back a step.

“Yeah,” Jensen said. “My thought exactly.”

“But, Jensen, you don’t...” A beat passed, then another, before Jared cleared his throat. “You don’t get to make these type of decisions. You should’ve checked in with me first.”

When Jensen had been face-to-face with Richie’s starved family, The Code of Silence hadn’t mattered to him and he also hadn’t given a fuck just how valuable Richie’s services were. He’d used Richie’s landline to call the police, stayed around until he’d heard the wail of approaching sirens, then got the fuck out, knowing he’d done the right thing. His father, he knew in his heart, would’ve done the same.

Young kids, elderly and the infirm all got automatic passes from the shit storm of this world if they weren’t born into it. They weren’t a part of it and were meant to be protected or, at the very least, to be left out.

“I’m in the right here, Jared, and you know I am.”

Because, while Jensen may have been a killer, he had morals. He wasn’t a psychopathic monster.

*

Like Willie, Jensen favored whiskey. Chad, however, liked vodka. So Jensen picked up a bottle a couple days after tossing Chad out of Jared’s office, the morning after Chad had carried out a hit, then went to pay Chad a visit.

“Fuck you want?” Chad said, still pissed.

In answer, Jensen just lifted up the Ciroc. A peace offering. Which worked like magic, since Chad moved into the warmth of his house, leaving the door open for Jensen to follow.

By the time Jensen reached the kitchen, Chad had two red solo cups out, waiting on the counter. Jensen cracked open the bottle and poured, making sure that Chad received just a little bit more than he did. They saluted each other, then downed their shots.

“Fuck, that’s good.” After letting out a belch, Chad poured himself another healthy sized shot, which he swallowed down just as quickly. Followed by a third.

And Jensen couldn’t believe his luck. Chad was going to make this so easy. Before long, he was going to be drunk with little to no urging on Jensen’s part.

Jensen said, “So—”

“I get it,” Chad interrupted. “I mean, you were disrespectful as shit the way you went about it, have no doubt, but I do get it. I would’ve reacted the exact same had I walked into that shit at Richie’s with no warning beforehand.”

“No hard feelings, then?”

“Nah, we good.” Then Chad, true to form, ruined the moment of their reconciliation with his next statement. “Just don’t let being dicked by Jared go to your head again, bro. S’all I’m saying.”

“Fuck you, but... I’ll keep what you said in mind.” With a chuckle, Jensen followed Chad into the living room. The Ciroc came with them.

Chad collapsed onto the middle of his couch. “Off today, whattya want?”

The slight slur in his speech wasn’t missed by Jensen. He took the chair right across from Chad. “Just to pick your brain on some of the other families and organizations, since Jared has me interacting with them more now. I need to know who our true friends are, who our surface friends are. Enemies, I’m good on for the most part. They’ve made themselves known.”

“Well, Jenny-boy, you’ve come to the right place.” Chad took his next hit, more of a gulp, straight from the bottle. “L’start with the Peniketts.”

If Jensen was a better person, he might feel guilty for taking advantage of the vice Chad relied on too heavily the immediate day after making use of his skills in a torturous, deadly capacity. Those days when he dulled the memories of what he’d done by drinking all of his calories rather than consuming real food. Chad had been trying to move away from that, to save drinking for the rare night of partying instead, worried that his liver would be no good in three years’ time when he hit thirty.

If Jensen was a better person...

But he wasn’t. There were some things that he needed to know and Chad, unfortunately, had his attention.

Timing it just right, Jensen waited until Chad was at that very loose lip moment of perfect drunkenness. He sat forward in his chair, forearms braced against his thighs. “And the Pelligrinos?”

Eyes just about closed, Chad said in a whisper, “Mark’s’not shit, but Willie...”

“What about Willie?” Jensen prompted, when Chad trailed off and showed no signs of continuing his thought.

Chad’s eyes were all the way shut now. “H’was a good man. Good, good man. Helped J’r’d.”

And there would be no further probing Chad for information, because he was passed out.

“Fuck.” Shoving a hand through his hair, Jensen continued to sit across from Chad, staring at him. “ _Fuck_.” Then he went in search of aspirin, which he left on the coffee table right in front of Chad, along with a bottle of water.

Tomorrow morning, Chad was going to wake with one bitch ass of a hangover. With the information he’d provided, he deserved to have relief easily within reach.

He’d confirmed what Jensen had already deduced on his own. Whatever relationship there had been between Jared and Willie, it had been a good one. One not too different, from the sounds of it, from Jensen’s own relationship with his father.

*

Jensen blinked. Blinked a second time to clear his vision.

Because there was no way the person standing across from him was who he thought it was. But he’d watched the news reports often enough. Had seen the grief stricken faces of family members over the past ten and a half months as they’d publically prayed for whoever had their baby girl to let her go. To send her back home.

Or to tell them where to locate her remains.

Long blond hair. Big gray eyes. Five when taken, but had a birthday not too long ago. Should be six now.

This little girl in front of Jensen was Riley Thomas. Peeping out the door at Jensen from a bedroom right across the hall from the bathroom he’d just exited. In the house of one Silas Lafferty.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Jensen murmured. “What are you doing here?” One stride and he was right in front of the door, pushing it all the way open with a soft shove. He dropped down to his knees in front of her so as to appear non-threatening. “Are you supposed to be here?”

The longest of hesitations, like she didn’t _know_ , then she shook her head.

“Okay, then, let’s get you somewhere safe.” He picked Riley up and carried her to the front door. “Yo, Silas,” he called out, cursing to himself when he felt the small body against him tense up. But he needed Silas to come to him. To see his reaction to Jensen holding Riley. If it was guilt or something else. It was a far stretch, but Jensen held onto his sliver of faith that Silas’s reaction would be that something else. Something like honest confusion that the girl was there in his house, unknown to him. “I’m headed out.”

Predictably, Silas rushed out the living room where Jensen had left him. “You just got here, Ackles, and we still need to— _fuck_ , what are you, w-w-why do you...” Silas stopped. Swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with his nervousness. “Why do you have her?”

Guilt. So much fucking guilt. “Same could be asked of you, am I right?”

“I, uh, I’m just, she’s supposed to be in bed. Her, her mom and dad have been out of town, right, so, uh, I’m just watching—”

“Out of town for ten months? What they’d do, take a sabbatical from parenting? Look, Silas, no worries. You don’t know it, but I did promise Jared that I wouldn’t kill you, after all.”

And fuck Jared hard for extracting that promise from Jensen. _I’m sending you in for this deal with Silas. And he’s a shady motherfucker, but no matter what he says or does, Jensen, no matter how much he may deserve it, you don’t fucking kill him, understand?_

Jensen had agreed. And now he couldn’t go back on his word. Not without breaking a still burgeoning trust.

Had Jared known just how low and disgusting of a person Silas was, though?

If he had, regardless if he’d killed Willie or not, then he was being taken out tonight for condoning this shit with his inaction. For asking Jensen to do the same. Then? Then Jensen would be coming back for Silas.

Jensen set Riley down on the ground. “You turn around, face the door and put your hands over your ears, okay? I also want you to count to twenty-five, loud as you can. No matter what you hear, don’t stop. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, then spun to face the door, hands slapped tight to the sides of her head. “One...two...”

“Jensen, you can’t do anything to me.” Hands up, Silas backed away. “You know that you can’t.”

“Oh, I can’t? Says who?”

“The Defenestrates _need_ the alliance with my family. You do anything to me, it’ll be an all-out war. Jared knows this. Think about it. Why else would he have made you promise to not touch me?”

Jensen didn’t know. But he would for damn sure be finding out.

“...nine...”

“Let’s get one thing straight here,” Jensen said, advance slow and measured. “I promised to not kill you.”

Without meaning to, Silas had scuttled himself into a corner and Jensen had let him do it. There was no way for him to get around Jensen. Nowhere for him to escape. “ _Jensen_ …”

“...sixteen...seventeen...”

Jensen pulled out the Sig Sauer Jared had recently given to him just because ( _Just because he likes the way your ass clings to his dick_ , Chad’s obnoxious voice echoed in his head). Sick bastards like Silas fucked kids, yet passed judgment on men like Jared and Jensen for liking the dick of another consenting adult.

The irony. It burned.

“I _never_ said anything about not hurting you, though.” The sound of the gun’s butt slamming into Silas’s face produced a distinct, sickening crunch.

“...twenty...”

While Silas was bent over, cradling his broken, spurting nose in both hands, Jensen brought the gun down on the top of his head. Once. Twice. Then a third time, just for good measure. Unconscious, Silas slumped to the floor. He’d be out for a while. Long enough for Jensen to drop Riley off in the vicinity of the nearest hospital, visit Jared, then come back.

If Jared provided the right answers, then Jensen wouldn’t kill anyone tonight. He had promised not to, at least in Silas’s case.

But he would make Silas pay. To the point where Silas would be wishing for death.

“...twenty-three...twenty-four...”

Before she reached twenty-five, Jensen had tugged one of Riley’s little hands off her ears. Fingers intertwined, they exited the house to face the early spring day together.

*

Jensen didn’t even make it to Jared’s door. Having expected this visit or something, Jared met Jensen in the driveway.

“You did good,” he said once Jensen stood in front of him.

“I did good? The fuck is I did good supposed to mean?” Eyes narrowed, Jensen said, “Silas—”

“Is being eliminated by Chad right at this very moment. By his own family’s request. Unfortunate for him, I found out just what he’s been up to and gave them the choice to take him out themselves or for me to take care of it for them.”

Fury mounted in Jensen at a rapid fire pace. Jared _had_ known about Silas. He’d known and he’d also known why Jensen was just so interested in Riley Thomas.

 _I was only sixteen, but I did it. I ended that scumbag’s life, made sure he could never touch another little girl ever again. The only thing I regret is that I didn’t do it sooner, before he touched my baby sis. I knew about him, everybody did, but I still... Jared, she was only_ six _, man._

Yet, he’d still forced Jensen to make that promise. Just to see what Jensen would do, if tonight would be a repeat of Jensen’s vigilante act like at Richie’s, but with deadly consequences this time. Or if Jensen would listen.

“You giant bag of dicks!” Jensen paced away a few feet to stop himself from launching a physical attack on Jared. Tried to get his breathing under control. Failed. “Fuck you, Jared! Just... _fuck you_.”

“I had to be sure.” Hands landed on Jensen’s shoulders. Pulled him back into the warmth of the body behind him. “I had to make sure that I’ve made the right choice this time. In all ways.” Raspy voice in Jensen’s ear, the bristly hair of his jaw scraping Jensen’s neck, Jared said, “What I did, taking Silas out, I did for you. _For you_ , Jensen. You have my full and complete trust now.”

Which sounded an awful lot like, _You have my heart_.

Tension fled out of Jensen, replaced by a frisson of thrill. It wasn’t even a shock acknowledging that his excitement wasn’t derived from him being in the most optimal of positions now to carry out his plan. To absolutely destroy not only Defenestrates, but to also personally and emotionally wreck Jared first in the process. Jensen had wanted to hear those words from Jared’s mouth for a while now, to know that they were the truth, not because of revenge, but just because he’d _needed_ to hear them.

He’d needed confirmation that this thing between them wasn’t one-sided. That it was real to Jared. Because, fuck, damn near nothing had ever felt more real to Jensen.


	6. Chapter 6

_God gave you instincts for a reason, Jensen. Trust them._

Jensen leaned back against the bar he’d standing by since arriving a few moments before, elbows propped up on the cool surface behind him. His eyes flitted, yet again, to the table across the restaurant where a stranger and Aldis sat with Jared. They were outlining for Jared the details of whatever arrangement Aldis had brokered with the dude, someone Jensen was sure he’d never met before. At least, not in the capacity of his dealings with Defenestrates, he hadn’t.

Which was why it was so disconcerting that the guy looked so freaking familiar. Because, outside of Defenestrates, where else would Jensen know him from? He didn’t know anyone else in Chicago, besides Tom.

Still unable to ID the guy, Jensen focused back on Christian, who sat on the stool right next to him. The restaurant was smaller and intimate, like all of Jared’s favorite places. Their specialty was Latin Fusion, which Jensen was guessing must’ve been tasty, or at least satisfying, going by the rate Christian shoved his tacos in his face.

“Slow down before you give _me_ heartburn,” Jensen said, eyebrows lifted in amusement. “No one else here but us, man, so I think it’s safe to assume that no one’s gonna take your food.”

With an audible gulp, Christian swallowed his mouthful. “Dani’s pissed at me right now. She cooked dinner last night, but wouldn’t let me have any. Same with breakfast this morning.”

“Something wrong with your hands that you couldn’t make your own damn food?”

“Yeah, I’m not a cook is what’s wrong with them.”

“Maybe not, but, just saying, even a hungry man knows how to throw together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” At Christian’s unimpressed look, Jensen held up his palms in pacification. “Or, y’know, in desperate times, he can always make a Mickey Ds run.”

“Or, maybe, his girl could just feed him.”

Disbelief laced the snort Jensen let loose. “After you pissed her off? Good luck with that. What’d you do to get on her bad side anyway?”

“Told her over my dead body was I letting her leave the house for a date.”

That would do it. “And you’re still _alive_?”

“Believe me, she seriously contemplated taking me out.” Serious, Christian added, “It’s just, she’s pregnant with our second child now, y’know, and we still haven’t gotten our shit together yet. I don’t even know what we are to each other.”

Jensen didn’t either. He’d stopped trying to make sense of Christian and Danneel a long time ago. Actually, in all honesty, he’d never really tried. They were high school sweethearts and Danneel had gotten pregnant during their senior year (against Chad’s very vocal opinion, if he were to be believed). For a while, they’d tried to make a go of it. First, it had been because they’d loved each other and wanted things to work. Then, it had been for lil’ Chris’ sake since they felt it would be better for him in the long run.

Now, they barely tolerated each other and weren’t “together”, according to Danneel, with Christian’s opinion on the matter being a non-issue, also according to her. But they still lived in the same house, slept in the same bed, fucked each other, without protection as evidenced by the second bundle of joy they now had on the way, and never dated other people.

It wasn’t worth the headache of trying to figure them out.

“So, when she’s starting school?” Jensen asked to move the conversation on to a lighter subject. He didn’t see much of Danneel, but last time he’d dropped by their house, she’d told Jensen all about enrolling at one of the city colleges where she planned to study hospitality. Then, she’d regaled him with the details of her many daily trips to the bathroom to puke up black shit because Christian’s children were apparently _demon spawn_ in utero.

Her passion for the service industry had actually been the reason she’d opened Dani’s in the first place. But, things hadn’t quite worked out how she’d planned with that venture. Only Jared and his crew had ever frequented her place before she’d closed it down, the locals too afraid to enter and everyone else in the city pretty much clueless about its existence. 

“Classes start in two weeks. She’s really excited, man. Glad to be doing something that our lil’ man can see and understand. I’m proud of her.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Trying to think of a subtle way to steer the conversation to the Pelligrinos to find out the extent of Christian’s knowledge, Jensen’s attention wandered over to the table again. This time, he met the eyes of the man Jared and Aldis were talking to.

Pale, pale eyes.

_“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?” The man standing over Jensen’s bed had pale eyes, a shade Jensen had never seen before. They were so light and devoid of color that no word truly fit other than pale. Not silver, not gray, not light blue._

_Jensen had no idea who this man was. This man in his bedroom. Who’d woken Jensen up by lovingly caressing the barrel of his very big, very real gun down Jensen’s cheek._

_“Get up and get dressed and meet me downstairs in five. Don’t be late now.” The man’s lips slanted upwards in a wild grin. “I’m taking you to Chicago. Someone there paid me a pretty penny to come get you, so it’ll be a good reunion for me. Hope it’s just as sweet for you.”_

Mark’s man. Here. _Here_.

Jesus Christ.

It wasn’t even a clearly defined thought for Jensen, just automatic action. A slowly oozing hole from Jensen’s gun appeared in the middle of the man’s forehead just as the guy got his feet underneath him. He’d stuck his hand inside his suit jacket on finally noticing Jensen and, as he collapsed sideways back into his chair to reveal the red splattered wall behind him, his jacket parted open to show he’d been reaching for his own guns. Two of them, tucked down into his pants, out of sight.

“Jensen,” Jared said in the immediate aftermath. The smell of burning gunsmoke clogged the air, creating the distinct odor of death when combined with the metallic smell of blood.

“Jared, you assured me that this wouldn’t happen again.” Misha Collins, the owner of the restaurant, strange fucker that he was, had come running out the kitchen towards the danger rather than away from it. He nudged the shoulder of the man Jensen had just shot, causing the body to tumble to the floor with a loud thump. Tone resigned, he pronounced, “Deceased.”

“It was unexpected, Misha. As always, you’ll be well compensated for your troubles and silence.” But Jared wasn’t looking at Misha as he made the promise. Instead, his eyes were set on Jensen. He pushed up to his feet. “Jensen, I need you to tell me why you took that shot.”

“He was going for his guns.” He had been, but Jensen had no reason to fear the guy would’ve shot or harmed him. In fact, being that this guy reported to his uncle, Jensen shouldn’t have had anything to fear from him at all.

Jared would’ve been the target. And Jensen’s instinct had been to protect him.

To _protect_ him.

And, fuck, Jensen didn’t have memory problems. He wouldn’t allow himself to play stupid either. Much as he wanted to be sure that he hadn’t been in harm’s way, he knew what he’d seen. The guy hadn’t gone for his weapons until he’d laid eyes on Jensen.

Slowly, Jared approached. His expression appeared... expectant. “But _how_ did you know that he would?”

“How did I...” Jensen trailed off.

_I had to make sure that I’ve made the right choice this time. In all ways._

_You have my full and complete trust now._

Jensen swallowed hard. Then allowed the deceits to roll off his tongue. “I’ve seen him before. Must’ve heard him talking or something and just remembered.”

“Listen to me very carefully, Jensen. Listen to what I’m asking you. How did you know?”

 _But don’t you_ ever _fucking lie to me again._

“I don’t, I don’t know.”

“ _How_ , Jensen?”

“Goddamn it, Jared, I just _did_ , okay.”

“Alright. Okay.” But, despite his words, disappointment creased Jared’s forehead in numerous lines.

This moment had felt pivotal. Had felt like Jared asking if Jensen returned his trust.

Though Jensen couldn’t place his finger on why, all he could think was that he’d just failed. So he gave an inch, admitted the very truthful, “I think he maybe reports to Pelligrino.”

Decisive, Jared nodded. He didn’t appear to be exactly pleased, but he no longer seemed quite so discontent anymore either. “Misha, you’ll need to close up for the day. Chad will be by soon to help Aldis clean up the mess and to take care of the body.”

As Jared headed towards the exit, Jensen fell into step beside him, his usual place nowadays, with Christian bringing up the rear. It had been close to a year now since Mark had set Jensen on his mission. Never once had Jensen checked in with him to provide an update in all that time. He didn’t have a way of contacting Mark, short of showing up on the man’s doorstep, which wasn’t a good idea in any way, shape or form, never mind the fact that Jensen wasn’t even sure he could find Mark’s house again anyway without asking Jared some very suspicious questions.

Jensen had just been doing his own thing. Letting things play out naturally with time. But, now, maybe he did need to speak with Mark. To find out why he’d sent someone else after Jared when Jensen was still in place, making headway, even if it was in an unexpected manner. To let Mark know that he’d gotten it all wrong and to not send anyone else after Jared.

Deep in his heart, in his mind, _in his gut_ , Jensen knew beyond a shadow of any doubt that Jared hadn’t been responsible or involved in Willie’s death. He spoke of his still yet unnamed mentor with too much affection. Followed the edicts put in place by that mentor, same ones Willie had put in place for Jensen, too closely.

And, as confessed by Chad, Willie had _helped_ Jared. Jensen was certain that the only deal there had ever been between Willie and Jared was in the form of Willie providing guidance when Jared had broken away from Morgan.

Most important of all, Jensen needed to speak to his uncle to find out why it seemed as though his man had been gunning for Jensen, too.

*

For days, Jensen plotted on how to approach Jared regarding potential payback. Jensen wanted in. More than that, he wanted to take lead, so that he could maybe find a way to talk to Mark. Settle things without further blood being spilled, while also hopefully making right with Mark the dispatching of his man. If it came down to it, Jensen was willing to own up to the death himself.

Blood was thicker than water and the Pelligrinos valued blood. Although Mark and Jensen didn’t know each other, their shared familial ties meant that Mark would likely be more lenient towards Jensen than anyone else, more forgiving of the transgression. Especially given that Mark had sent in his man while still laboring under the false impression that Jared had killed Willie.

But then Aldis came to Jensen, halting all of Jensen’s plans. “You were right,” he said, on his phone, typing out a text. “Dude was one of Pelligrino’s. A hired gun he uses for the occasional job.”

“You tell Jared yet?”

“On the way to see him now. But figured I’d let you know first, since you’re right here in front of me and all.” Cell now shoved in his pocket, Aldis looked up at Jensen. His eyes expressed his worry. “Gonna have to do some real sweet talking to convince him to not commit murder at that poker game coming up next week. It’s a neutral zone, man. Big wigs will all be present and tensions will already be barely controlled with the high stakes. If Jared comes in with guns blazing...”

A fucking bad situation. A very, very bad situation all around. An outright declaration of war to whoever decided to take offense, which could be anyone or, worse yet, _everyone_.

*

Aldis’s fears proved unfounded.

It was the night of the poker game and Jared, calm as he could be, stood in front of Jensen, just outside the gambling hall.

Forgoing his usual outfit of flannel, undershirt and jeans, Jensen had on a custom fitted suit instead that had been provided by Jared on his dime. One hundred percent wool, he’d informed Jensen, as if Jensen gave a fuck, other than the fact that it kept him warm.

What he did care about, though, was that strangled feeling he had going on right now. Jensen undid his tie, ripped it off his neck and shoved it into his pocket. Then he sucked in a deep gulp of freezing air.

Jared just looked amused by Jensen’s antics. No stress at all. Not a care in the world. Even though he was about to walk into what amounted to a biennial meeting with all of his allies and associates masquerading as an event to raise money for charities.

Even though he knew for sure that at least one of those allies was actively out for him. Maybe more than one since it seemed as though someone had fingered Defenestrates to Mark as being responsible for Willie’s death.

“Here, let me.” Jared stepped close to Jensen, just a touch closer than the unwritten rules of their world deemed appropriate, and Jensen let him. Held still while Jared loosened the top two buttons of his shirt. While they didn’t flaunt their dirty doings, they didn’t really hide them either. They were private about it, reserved. “Better?”

With a nod, Jensen said, “Uh, yeah, much better. I can breathe now. Thanks.”

Dimples dented Jared’s cheeks deep as a smile spread across his face. “You clean up real nice, Ackles.”

As did Jared, Jensen had to admit. This was the first time Jensen had ever seen him clean shaven.

“Why the fuck do the three stooges over there get off with just their regular street gear?” With a jerk of his thumb, Jensen indicated Chad, Aldis and Christian, who loitered closer to the hall’s entrance. They were all dressed in some combination of jeans, flannels, sweaters and/or leather bombers.

“Because tonight isn’t about them.”

In the week leading up to this night, Jared hadn’t indicated that anything out of the ordinary would occur. At least not to Jensen, he hadn’t. And that was exactly why his statement set Jensen on edge. Made him wary.

Something about that comment seemed loaded. Something Jensen couldn’t quite place his finger on, other than noting the insinuation that tonight was about him in some way.

“Well, don’t plan on putting any money on me. I don’t play.”

“You don’t have to. That’s not what this is about.” Jared turned away and walked towards the building.

Aldis held the door open for them both. As they passed by, he said to Jared, “I hope you’re sure about this, man.”

“Never been surer of anything in my life.”

Which, of course, begged the question of just what in the hell were they talking about? Sure about _what_?

But Jensen didn’t ask. They were now in the midst of friends who were also enemies. The hall was filled with oval tables, about ten or so chairs circled around each, most with accompanying bodies to fill the seats.

Aldis and Chad broke off and went to the bar, where there were others in similar attire as them just hanging around, while Jared and Jensen continued on to a half full table. Very similar to the day they’d left Misha’s restaurant, Christian trailed after them. Jensen took the seat right next to Jared, with Christian standing behind them, thick arms folded across his broad chest in a menacing stance of protection, just like several other muscled men throughout the room.

No matter where Jensen looked, the eyes of the well-dressed crowd, the cream of the crop in Chicago’s underworld, seemed to be focused on them. A sharp beat passed, the noise falling from a dull roar down to a whispered buzz before volume slowly resumed regular level again.

The pointed looks their way didn’t stop, however.

Not sure what the fuck had just happened, but knowing that something had, it took Jensen longer than it should have to realize who they’d joined.

Mark.

Of course, Jensen had known his uncle would be there. Had hoped to actually get a moment of his time. He just hadn’t ever counted on sitting right across from the man the entire night.

Where he definitely couldn’t say anything to him. Reveal that he knew Mark.

Legs crossed and reclined back in a chair that was slightly pushed away from the table, Mark’s attention was focused on the game already in progress. But he’d obviously been more observant than Jensen going by his comment of, “Have a definite second in place now, Jared?”

“Figured it’s past time. And Jensen’s been with me for just about a year now, has proven himself more than worthy of the position and capable of handling it.”

Air wanted to rush out of Jensen’s lungs in a gasp as realization hit, but he forcefully held it in check. Not the time to show weakness, show to both Jared and Mark just how off-kilter he was at the moment. The rules here were unknown to Jensen, but Mark’s observation confirmed that Jared had just made some big pronouncement by bringing Jensen to the table with him.

Had, apparently, just announced to everyone present that Jensen was his official second.

It shouldn’t have come as a shock to Jensen, considering he’d been acting in that capacity unofficially for a while. But Jared had just made this wordless announcement straight to Mark’s face before Jensen even had a chance to talk to his uncle. Jared had also just made this wordless announcement without cluing Jensen in beforehand. Really, a hint of just what he’d been planning wouldn’t have been amiss, especially since he had apparently already told Aldis. Then again, Jared playing his cards close to his chest wasn’t anything new or shocking.

“Jensen, huh?” Mark asked. “We’ve had very few dealings with each over this past year, Jared, so I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure just yet of meeting him.”

Jensen leaned forward and extended his hand to shake Mark’s with a firm up and down. “Jensen Ackles, sir.”

“Mark Pelligrino.” Mark’s fingers squeezed Jensen’s right to the point of pain before letting go.

“I haven’t had the pleasure, either,” a cultured voice said from Jensen’s right. “Lauren Cohan.”

And Jensen found himself shaking hands with the other occupants at the table, which included Lauran’s second, Osric Chau. There was also an older guy present named Jim Beaver and his second, an older lady named Sam Ferris.

“So,” Jared said just as the current game wound down, “about time you got a second, too, isn’t it, Mark? Almost a year and a half now since your brother’s been gone, providing you with that almost too perfect opportunity to move up and take the number one spot.”

The words were sharp, meant to cut deep. And they did, for Jensen. Made him wince, but only internally as he didn’t dare show an ounce of emotion here in these shark infested waters.

Mark leveled a pointed look at Jared, but as the new game started, his response was a very noncommittal, “Hmmm, yes, if you say so.”

In the bathroom later that evening, moments before he was about to leave with Jared, Jensen found himself cornered by Mark.

“We need to speak,” Jensen said, urgent. “I think that you’re wrong—”

“To have sent in a boy to do a man’s job? Yes, Jensen, thanks for pointing out the obvious. I’ve long been aware of my error. A _whole year_ , son, yet Padalecki is still walking, talking and being a general pain in my ass. The Defenestrates are doing more business than ever, getting stronger.”

“But Jared didn’t—”

“I’m still trusting you to take care of this, so do yourself a favor and don’t disappoint me,” Mark crowded close to interrupt. He eyed Jensen, disgust evident. “There’ve been whispers about the two of you, about what you get up to with each other behind closed doors. Watch yourself, boy. Because if I find out there’s any truth, I may just yet end up taking care of everything myself, and I do mean everything, like I should’ve done to begin with.”

Mind reeling, Jensen watched Mark stalk out the bathroom. He followed the same path moments later, assuring an eagle eyed Jared, “Everything’s good. Let’s go.”

But everything wasn’t okay. Mark had essentially threatened to kill Jensen right along with Jared. Hadn’t wanted to hear what Jensen had to say.

Had Mark...

Mark _had_ already made plans to exterminate Jensen. It was obvious. Too obvious. That had been why his man had waited until he’d set eyes on Jensen to go for his gun.

He’d been waiting to make his move until he’d had not one, but _both_ of his targets in sight. There was no concrete proof of this, but Jensen knew that he was right. He _knew_ , just as surely as he knew that his trust in Jared wasn’t misplaced.

Mark was playing at a dirty game that Jensen probably wasn’t meant to come out of alive. Maybe had been since he’d first made up his mind to involve Jensen. But why?


	7. Chapter 7

_I love you and your mother enough that I’ve tried my best to keep you both away from my crap. It hurt, letting the two of you go. If you ever find a love like that, you cherish it, you hear me, Jensen? You cherish it and you hold onto it, just like I did, unless circumstance forces you to turn it loose. Even then, you fight like hell first before giving it up._

With zero qualms, Jensen had let go of his apartment and moved in with Jared the week before, the day after the poker game. Jared had asked and Jensen had capitulated. Really didn’t make sense for him to continue paying for a place where he didn’t live most of the time.

Walking out their shared bedroom, then down the stairs, Jensen noted all the places where Jared had made room for him. Like the famed picture hung on the stairwell wall, right where the light hit it just right, that Jenna had drawn for Jensen when she was seven, a few days after Jack had died.

Since Jenna was the artist, Jensen loved the picture automatically. He’d always especially loved the detail of Jack being depicted with a golden halo hovering above his head. But the inclusion of Willie in the picture, too, holding hands with both Jenna and Jensen, was why it held the spot of Jensen’s favorite gift of all time that his baby sis had ever given him. The one he was going to make certain stayed in his possession forever and always.

That picture was just one of the many ways that Jensen’s integrated life with Jared was reflected throughout the house. Even if Jared would never know the additional man in that picture was Willie Pelligrino rather than _Jack’s doctor._

There was a very big Willie sized secret between them. That Jensen didn’t know quite how to broach without revealing other, pertinent details of who he was and how he’d ended up there. When— _if_ —the truth came out, Jared would immediately recognize that Jensen appearing in his life was no coincidence. Would immediately recognize that Jensen had been _lying_ to him from day one.

Jared didn’t tolerate lies very well at all.

Each day, Jensen thought on how to solve his Mark created problem. He had yet to come up with a decent solution.

And Mark...

That was a whole other world of nastiness that needed to be dealt with. And quickly.

Jensen wasn’t really looking for Jared, however when he heard his muffled voice echoing through the half-shut door of the home library, Jensen pushed into the room. Back to Jensen, Jared was on his cell. He turned when he heard Jensen enter, however, and motioned for Jensen to come all the way in.

“I know,” he said to whoever was on the line. “Just because _you_ only found out now doesn’t mean that you’re telling _me_ anything that I haven’t known for a while.”

Unlike Mark’s home office, this library was done up in a way that left no question as to who dwelled here, who a person was dealing with. It was dark. Like Jared.

A solid cherry bookcase lined the long back wall, filled top-to-bottom with surprising classics by Dickens, Tolstoy, Orwell and Twain, along with various knickknacks, mostly of the disbanded weapon variety. There was also the occasional photo, which included one of Jensen, his mother and his younger siblings as well as one of Jared and Morgan during their happier times. One short wall of the room was a huge picture window overlooking a lake, while the other, which was an inside wall shared with the next room over, a half bath, was just plain, painted drywall.

The dark, brown couch, situated several feet in front of the bookcase, faced the most impressive wall of them all, the other long one, which was made up of a fireplace. The huge, black stone mantel took up the whole wall, with just enough space to the right of it for a cubby full of pre-chopped logs. It was between the fireplace and the small coffee table just in front of the couch where Jared stood as he continued on with a conversation that Jensen had all but tuned out.

“Pileggi, goddamn it, are you listening to me? Are you hearing what I’m saying to you?”

But that name was enough to capture Jensen’s attention. Pileggi was bad news and Jensen had truly thought he was rid of the man, at least for the moment. He met Jared’s eyes, dread coiling in his gut.

Held that intense hazel gaze even as Jared said, “I know exactly who he is.”

Jared _knew_.

Heart jack hammering in his chest, Jensen realized that he was being faced with a split second decision here. He could run, admitting guilt, which would undoubtedly lead to his death before he could even take two steps. Or he could stay and try to bullshit his way through this.

Jensen approached Jared. Because, despite what it sounded like, he actually wasn’t one hundred percent positive that his cover had been blown.

Maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been. And that’s what Jensen banked on as he invaded Jared’s personal space. Got right up in his face. His hands settled on Jared’s hips and he guided him backwards. Jared’s knees buckled on meeting the edge of the couch, sending him down into a loose legged sprawl.

Jensen hiked Jared’s right leg up onto the supple leather cushion, then settled in the v of Jared’s open legs. Crawled up Jared’s body, stomach roiling the whole way with nervous agitation.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ve—”

His comment was left unfinished as Jensen slid his thumb up Jared’s still smooth chin, over his bottom lip and into his mouth. Uneasiness made his voice a raspy wobble as he whispered, “Want you.”

With Jared fully focused on him, Jensen tugged the phone away from his ear, with no protest, and ended the call on a sigh of relief. He sat the phone on the coffee table, next to the gun and money Jared must’ve placed there earlier before Jensen had entered the room.

After giving Jensen’s thumb a strong suck, Jared pulled back, popping it out of his mouth. “Jensen—”

“Just let me, okay?” Jensen yanked Jared’s shirttail free of his slacks and pushed it up out of the way. “Wanna taste you right now, Jay.”

“Yeah, that’s good and all, and I’m all for it, but first we need to talk—”

“No talking.” Dropped down to his knees in front of the couch, Jensen pressed a kiss to Jared’s bared belly, then went to work on freeing Jared’s cock. Unbuckled his belt. Popped the pant’s button free of its hole. Zipper pulled down, he nuzzled his face against the parts of Jared’s boxer clad erection that he could reach.

Was able to take strength in the knowledge that even if he was in a fucked up situation right now, this was something he knew how to do. Sucking a dick, sucking _Jared’s dick_ , giving Jared pleasure, was easy as breathing.

Sometimes Jared fell asleep after coming. Jensen was hoping and praying he did this time so that he had time to think this through. Could make his escape, if necessary.

“You’ve convinced me, no talking right now. But, Jensen? We _will_ be having that discussion later.” Ass lifted off the couch, Jared slid both his pants and underwear down to the ground and kicked free of them. He took off his suit jacket, too, laying it across the back of the couch, but left his shirt on.

His erection strained up and away from his body and Jensen wrapped a hand around the base, steadying it as he licked clean the drops of precome that had welled out the slit. Lips wrapped around the large head, he tongued just beneath the crown for a moment, the bundle of nerves there, before removing his hand as he inched further down the shaft.

Jared’s cock nudged the back of Jensen’s throat and Jensen swallowed, taking in even more. All the way to the root. Something he knew drove Jared fucking crazy.

“Always so pretty, sweetheart.” Rhythmic, Jared’s hips rolled in a steady fucking motion. “Always so goddamn beautiful when you’re choking on my dick.”

Tears escaped Jensen’s eyes, tracking down his cheeks, just a few that he refused to think on, as he forced himself to stay in place. To hold Jared for as long as he could. He had to pull off eventually, coughing as Jared’s spit covered cock slid free of his lips. Soon as he was ready to take Jared in again, he sank all the way right back down.

But he did it slowly. So very slowly.

And held Jared’s gaze the whole way.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jared ground out, filling Jensen’s mouth with hot pulses of come.

Desperately, Jensen swallowed it all down. Didn’t let any go to waste. This may be the last taste of Jared he’d ever get.

Afterwards, Jensen kept Jared in his mouth until he softened. But, as Jensen had hoped, Jared didn’t fall asleep. No, instead he stroked his hands through Jensen’s short hair, over and over.

Hands that could kill. That _had_ killed, on more than one occasion.

Soothing hands.

“At first,” Jared said, “I thought it was weird, that immediate spark of lust I felt when we first met.”

Their talk.

Jensen tried to pull away, but gave up when Jared hauled him into his arms instead. It was where Jensen wanted to be, even in this moment that might be leading up to his death, perplexing in its surprising tenderness.

“Then you know who I am.” Thinking back a couple weeks, to the night he’d killed his uncle’s man and Jared’s questions that had seemed weirdly pointed, like he’d been trying to make Jensen admit something specific, something that Jared already _knew_ , Jensen asked, “Since when?

“The moment I laid eyes on you.” On feeling Jensen tense up, Jared said, “Relax. If I haven’t harmed you by now, then it should be more than obvious that I don’t plan on harming you at all.”

“How can I relax when you just basically admitted to knowing that I was sent here to kill you?”

“Because there’s trust between us, Jensen. Still growing on your part, I think, but it’s there. And more. After all, you’ve had plenty opportunity to take me out, but you’ve never tried once, have you. Have, in fact done the complete opposite.”

“So... you’ve known for months and have just been, what? Fucking with me this whole time? Goddamn entertaining yourself with the knowledge of who I am and that you’ve outsmarted me?”

“At first I didn’t know why you were there at Dani’s, I didn’t know that until later, not until Chad tracked down the guy responsible for sending in that meth head, but I will admit that I did know who you were. Knew then that I was meeting Willie’s son for the first time who I’d seen the proud papa pics of. My pseudo-little brother.” A chuckled rumbled through Jared’s chest. “Who I wanted to bend over the nearest flat surface and fuck senseless.”

“Who was...” Jensen stopped and swallowed down the lump that had taken up residence in his throat. It was time to ask the question that had been plaguing him nonstop, for months now. “Who was my father to you?”

“More father to me than my own ever was and there for me when JD couldn’t be.”

Ripped free of Jared’s grasp and on the other side of the couch, Jensen asked, “Then why did you kill him?”

“Did I?” After posing the question, Jared stood and pulled on his boxer briefs. “Do you truly believe that I killed him, Jensen? Or that I had him killed?”

No, Jensen didn’t. Hadn’t thought that for months. Not since that conversation with a shit faced Chad. “No.”

“But I do know who did, though,” Jared said, sitting back down, right next to Jensen. Without meaning to, Jensen found himself gravitating towards Jared, like he always did now. “And you do, too. Same person who’s tried to take us out two times now. Or, I should say, the two times that you know about.”

Jensen huffed in shocked disbelief. “There’ve been more attempts?”

“One every few weeks.”

“So, what you’re saying, is that night at Dani’s—”

“I’m saying that I wasn’t supposed to walk away from it and neither were you. I’m saying that you weren’t supposed to walk away from that restaurant and neither was I.”

“My uncle.” But it didn’t make sense. _None_ of it did. “Why? Why all this? Why lie to me about you killing my father? Why ask me to infiltrate Defenestrates for revenge?”

Broad shoulders shrugged in a motion that Jensen felt rather than saw since his eyes were lasered on the black marble floor as his mind whirled, taking everything in, tried to solve this unsolvable puzzle. “I don’t know for sure. I don’t know Mark or how his brain works well enough to answer. I do know, however, that he was the one to kill you father, just so that he could take Willie’s place. Willie had grown suspicious his last few weeks that Mark was about to make such a move.”

“But why not just leave me ignorant in Texas and kill me there, if all he wanted was my death to begin with?”

“Far as I can figure? Probably because he found it amusing bringing you into the very life that Willie had tried so hard to keep you out of. Setting you, Willie’s bio son, on a mission to kill me, his unofficially adopted one. All the while, he entertained himself by trying to kill the both of us. Just like playing a fucking game to him. And I should never have—I’ve made mistakes in how I’ve handled this, bringing you in even further when I knew it was the last thing Willie would have ever wanted. But, what’s done is done and...” Jared stopped, cleared his throat. “Mark hated your father and he hates you just because of who you are, just because you’re your father’s son. You’re the crown prince. You’re a threat.”

“Okay,” Jensen said. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. What I don’t get is you. How do you fit into all this?”

“Me? Well, I’m the biggest threat of all.” Catching Jensen’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, Jared turned Jensen’s head towards him. Forced Jensen to look into his eyes and hold contact long after he would’ve looked away. “I was as much Willie’s confidant as he was mine. He told me things that he’d never dared tell another soul.”

“Things like how he had a secret son.”

“That, among other things.” Jared let Jensen go, though Jensen remained in the same position, exactly as he had been, facing Jared. Staring at him. “Things that would have Mark on the run if I ever opened my mouth as others would be gunning for him on principal alone. Including most of his own people.”

Only two sins were enough to disgust the underworld in whole, homosexuality and turning state’s evidence. One was an issue to be dealt with within each faction. The other? It possessed the power to universally unite everyone against a common enemy for fear of the ripple effect once a bird started singing a pretty song with too many words. “He’s flipped.”

A nod confirmed Jensen’s suspicion. “Pileggi is an unreliable piece of shit when it comes to deciding one way or the other if he’s going to be on the side of the law or on my payroll, but the information he provides is always gold. Willie clued me in that Mark was maybe up to some shady shit, but it was Pileggi who came through with the verification, just like he’s done a million times with a million other things in the recent past since he’s started taking my money.”

Like Riley Thomas’s location, no doubt...

Like the whereabouts, eventually, if not already shared, of Jared’s friend who’d singlehandedly brought down the Morgan Family...

Like how he’d approached Jensen, how he’d hounded him, how he’d _tested_ him...

Like Jensen’s identity, which Jared had already known...

 _And like who’d truly executed Willie Pelligrino_.

“I’m going to kill him,” Jensen said after a few, long seconds of silence.

“And I’ll be there right by your side when you do,” Jared promised.

Leaning forward, Jensen breathed in Jared’s air for a moment. Then he pressed their lips together in a kiss that sealed their deal. Made it into an unbreakable vow.

Jensen was in it deep now. In too deep to ever back out. And it was Mark’s underestimation of him, his ignorance on just how far Jensen was willing to go in retaliation for his father, that would one day be the cause of his death.

_All in, son. You’ve gotta be willing to go all in or you tell our family to fuck off the day they knock on your door. You tell them to fuck off and you stay out the life. Stay far, far away from it. There is no halfway in this. Halfway is just a goddamn pipe dream._


End file.
